Beneath the Surface
by GratuitousViolets
Summary: Remy returns with Rogue to Bayville to start his life over, but finds himself frustrated with his secretive relationship with Rogue and the looming presence of Jean-Luc. With so many secrets, is Remy heading for disaster? Or will a new friend be the one thing that keeps him from losing his sanity?
1. Part One

**BENEATH THE SURFACE**

**Part One**

* * *

><p><strong>*** This is the third part in the "Derranged Marriage" story trilogy. It should be noted, as with the last two stories, you should expect references to child abuse (as this was a huge part of the storyline). If these things do bother you I'd recommend not reading further as I wouldn't like to think I'd upset anyone, that was never my intention. Also eventually there may be the odd sexual situation or reference to situations (so if you're sensitive to that either, perhaps this might not be for you). <strong>

**I hope you're all having a wonderful December, and I hope everyone will enjoy this story (which is still currently in progress). **

* * *

><p>Remy LeBeau stared at his new bedroom feeling a strange sense of defeat. Four walls, a hardwood floor, a pristine white ceiling and a large twelve panelled window. It was simple, there was nothing exceptional, nor fancy about it considering the place was a <em>mansion. <em> The furniture was the kind of _replaceable _fare that massive stores such as Ikea dealt in, Remy supposed that was deliberate considering the this place probably saw more damage than most schools did. There wasn't going to be an endless supply of antique dressers and fancy rugs when kids with powers ran around this place the way he'd heard they do.

The bed was a single and rather _narrow _looking disappointment, depressingly thin looking mattress on a wrought iron base, it reminded him of a _prison _bed from old movies. He thought that probably appropriate, living here in comparison to his old life wasn't going to be all that different, he supposed.

"Is something wrong?" asked Ororo Munro; she stood at his back, the scent of her perfume was crisp and sweet, tones of citrus and vanilla, maybe. It'd have perhaps been a pleasant scent any other day, but on the tail end of his rather persistent hangover, it was sickly. Her voice was like honey, thick and strangely melodic; there was something soothing about it, when she spoke, he almost felt himself fall into a haze.

"No," he replied quietly, trying to focus. Today he didn't have the attention to deal with a new place, it was a struggle even to listen without somehow tuning out. It felt like all his concentration was being spent just on breathing rhythmically enough to keep himself from being sick; he'd felt that way since the tail end of the plane ride. "Jus' wonderin' where the outlet is t' plug in my phone," he lied.

"Oh," said Ororo, she moved in front of him, "right here, behind the nightstand," she tapped a long well-manicured fingernail against the plainly painted pale beige coloured wall. "The room is a little bare at the moment, this room was just recently redecorated," she explained, she moved to open the window; the warm late Bayville summer breeze spilled in.

"Yeah, I can still smell the paint," Remy replied; it was one of the first things he'd noticed when he'd entered a moment ago. He supposed it would be impolite to mention he'd wanted to paint his room something other than somewhere between beige and magnolia_._ Holding his tongue, he moved over to the bed and stared down at it. He wondered if this bed – which judging by the slight flaking beneath what was clearly a _new _coat of black metal paint was absolutely _second-hand_ – had _ever _seen any kind of action other than a good night's sleep.

Ororo turned to him, she seemed to study him for a moment, "you seem a little disappointed."

"I'm used t' sleepin' in a double bed is all," Remy replied, "I sleep corner t' corner...toss and turn a lot...kind of hard t' do that in a bed this small."

"I am sorry," Ororo forced a smile, although he could tell she wasn't impressed by his complaint so soon in arriving. "This bed was the _only _available bed we had in storage. Furniture tends to get...damaged...in this house regularly."

"I gathered that," Remy responded quitely.

"We thought this would be adequate enough for now until something could be arranged."

"Would I be able t' replace it myself?" he asked, he sat down on it, the thing was a little creaky. He had the feeling that any sneaky activity under the blankets (whether with someone or _solo)_ would make the bed squeak and clang. Maybe that was the point, maybe it was to prevent the want to do things. Not the ideal for a newly married man, he realised and he wouldn't have been surprised if Logan had it sent to the room to make _sure _there would be no _hanky _panky.

"You would need to take that up with the Professor, but I shouldn't see it being a problem," Ororo replied, she looked at her watch. "I am afraid I have somewhere to be very shortly and you would probably like to familiarise yourself with your room and unpack."

"Yeah," Remy quietly responded. _Unpack what? The all of five outfits I got and two pairs of shoes and a pair of flipflops? I could probably empty the entire contents out int' one drawer._

"I've left you a print out of the floor plans for the mansion, you should be able to find your way around easily enough. Any rooms that are highlighted in red on the print out are off limits – bedrooms are absolutely off limits," Ororo opened the drawer to the small nightstand and pulled out the print out, she held it out to him.

"Thanks," Remy said, he gazed at the print out (or rather the four sheets of it). There were a _lot _of rooms that were highlighted in red. Nearly _all _of the upstairs rooms were off limits, other than rooms marked 'M-BR'. "What's an M-BR?"

"Men's bathroom," Ororo said, hovering at the door, "When using the bathrooms, please try to be as tidy as you can, they are communal. And when it comes to mornings, the bathrooms do get rather busy."

"First come, first served, I guess," Remy supposed.

"I'll have some towels brought up for you that you should keep as your personal towels, but if you need a towel in the mean time there are some in a closet across the hall. You'll also find clean sheets and blankets in there."

"Why _ever _woul' I need to know where the blankets and sheets are kept, Storm?" he asked smartly. He understood perfectly _why _she would have to of course. Night time accidents were probably bound to happen in this place, perhaps some even might _not be _so accidental.

"For when you participate in chores," Ororo said quickly, her cheeks didn't even blush, which he thought pity. It might have briefly amused him. He wondered if she'd been _prepared _for that kind of suggestion to be made. In a house full of teenagers, he supposed she'd have to be.

"I...guess I should have expected that," Remy grimaced.

"There's a rota, you'll be added to it soon."

"Fair enough, I suppose if I'm gon' live here rent free I'm gon' be expected t' contribute."

"Everyone contributes. Logan likes to consider it a discipline," Ororo smirked just a little, her eyes – so unbelievably blue – twinkled just a little.

Remy found himself pondering what other _disciplines _Logan liked the students here to practise. He almost thought to make a snarky comment about such things but decided against it feeling Ororo would not appreciate or either miss the comment intention entirely. He wasn't going to waste his breath.

"When you've finished unpacking and feel settled...please feel free look around. Try to acquaint yourself with the hallways as best you can and try to memorise where the exits and the fire extinguishers are...they're needed far more than you'd realise. You'll find the quickest exit is a back stairwell hidden in a panel on the wall at the end of the hall on your left side as you leave. Your nearest fire extinguisher – which I hope you will _never _have reason to use – is across the hall. All bathrooms contain a small medical kit and there is a large medical cabinet in the double closet down the hall, but for any injury you should immediately go to the medical bay which you will find in the basement area."

Remy had almost expected a tour rather than the idea of being left to his own devices to find these things. In fact, he'd expected a slightly bigger welcome than this. The place was strangely quieter than he'd anticipated and somehow the _absence _of welcoming people made his apprehensions about coming here at all seem slightly foolish. Ororo had been the _only _person to welcome him, which was almost _disappointing _oddly enough. He hadn't even been there two minutes and she'd decided he needed to be shown to his new room, something which Logan had highly encouraged and something that Rogue had _not _fought on his side to prevent. It had felt less like a welcome and more like being _dismissed._

"It's...real quiet here. Quieter than I thought," Remy admitted, more of a thought to himself than making conversation with Ororo.

"For now," Ororo agreed, "many of the students are on leave to visit their families over summer vacation. They'll be back in a few weeks, then you will find the institute _far _from quiet."

He wondered how many already _knew _he was going to be joining the team. Would his appearance be a shock to the others? He assumed it would, he certainly still felt shocked at his _own _being here.

"Where can I find Rogue?" Remy asked. It'd barely been fifteen minutes since he'd saw her, but already, the distance between them felt somewhat excruciating.

"I'm not sure at this moment," Ororo paused at the door, "I'm sure you will see her at dinner."

Dinner was _hours _away, the thought of having to wait until then in a place he didn't know with these strangers didn't sit well with him.

"There is a list of rules also in that drawer," Ororo said, hand poised on the door handle, "I suggest you read it and make yourself familiar with them. If you need help with anything, there's a communicator in there too. Channel one should get you through to an instructor."

Remy opened the drawer, he'd expected the rules to be on a few printed sheets, instead it was on a small notebook, practically a _novella. _He picked up the communicator and examined it in his hand.

"Is there anything you need to ask before I leave?" Ororo queried, she brushed her long white hair from her shoulder.

"Yeah...when does trainin' start," Remy replied, looking up at her hopefully. Training was the _only _thing right now he was actually looking forward to about living here. He'd heard the X-Men trained like no others, both from Rogue _and _Magneto.

"You won't be training for a while," Ororo said, she had paused again, he wondered why there was so much hesitance with her. "You'll need to learn about the Danger Room first, and Logan will want to assess your skill before even putting you in there with others."

"Joy," Remy muttered miserably. It had been bad enough spending seven hours in a jet with the man (especially when there was a strange diluted smell of urine about him which was inexplicable). The thought of him being in charge of his clearance to train was utterly disappointing.

"Logan is a wonderful instructor, Gambit," she looked down at him. Remy wondered right then as she had her eyes on him just _how much _she knew about him, how much had Logan and Rogue been divulging about his secrets and his troubles? The thought left him uneasy, he didn't like the idea of people knowing his darkest shames, and he didn't like the idea of their pity either.

"Yeah," Remy stood up and moved towards the window, "I've...heard."

Ororo gave a little smile, "make yourself at home. Dinner is at six. Welcome to the institute."

And like that, the woman was gone. No grand tour of the sub-basements, no private welcome from the Professor, no joyful welcome party. An anti-climatic end to his arrival with no fuss made. He supposed that wasn't what he'd expected. If he were honest with himself, he wasn't sure what he _had _expected. Just...not something as quiet, nor as strangely lonely as _this. _He was almost certain if it had been _noisier, _he'd have been far more comfortable.

Sighing, he kicked off his sneakers and lay on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. _Well, here y' are, Remy, _he thought to himself. _Welcome t' the institute._

* * *

><p>Rogue shifted uncomfortably on the couch of the Professor's private study. The Professor was speaking over the phone at his desk – in impeccable French – with the owners of the Villa that they had just left back in St. Tropez. Remy had been hungover still when they had left – Logan had been in a hurry to get back, already having taken far more time from Bayville than he'd intended to. It had struck them all later that they probably <em>should <em>have left some money to deal with any damage and cleaning. Just before they had parted company in the hangar, Logan had gotten the information from him before _passing _him over to Ororo and promised to have it dealt with.

It was funny, Rogue thought after everything else going on in Remy's life, that the mess of the bedroom in the villa would have been the least of his worries. Especially when they'd never have a way of tracing him back to the states.

"Are they mad?" Rogue asked quietly to Logan who was standing by; his sensitive hearing was sure to pick up the voice on the other end of the line.

"Sound it," Logan said, "I ain't that good with French, especially not spoken at that speed...woman sounds upset...like someone pissed in her hush puppies. And then left a dump in the right one for good measure."

Rogue may have laughed if the whole situation hadn't felt so serious and depressing. There was nothing funny about the situation, nothing funny about what had caused it, and she was certain that Logan meant no jest by what he'd said either. His tone was far too serious and grouchy for that.

The Professor jotted something down on a piece of paper in front of him, most of the time he was only responding to things with "oui...oui..." and nodding, although no one on the end of the phone was going to be able to tell which Rogue found a little foolish and slightly unsettling.

Rogue supposed she couldn't blame the owners of the villa for being annoyed; the second bedroom in the villa had been practically _ruined _with vomit. The bed sheets, the wall, the floor. The place would be reeking of it for _weeks._ They'd probably have to replace those sheets. Probably have to paint the walls...get a new rug.

_Ah'm never drinkin' again, _Rogue thought dully as she picked at a loose thread on the tip of her gloved finger. The sight of Remy in that mess had turned her off of the idea of _ever _drinking. She'd rather die than be in that kind of a state. Rather die than have those she cared about see her in such a mess.

The Professor finally hung up, after seeming to make a promise that the damages would be paid for. After a moment, he rubbed his left temple and sighed, "those people are..." he paused, trying to find the right words.

"Assholes?" Logan asked, he had an unlit cigar between his teeth, he was leaning against the wall by the window, looking outside. Rogue was surprised he'd even used that language in front of her _and _the Professor simultaneously. It wasn't like him.

"Over-reactive...I was going to say over-reactive," the Professor cleared his throat, giving Logan a rather warning look.

"To be fair," Logan cleared his throat a little, "you didn't see what Gumbo left behind...it was like a scene from the exorcist, Charles. I'm not really surprised they're mad. I got a pretty strong stomach, and even _I _felt sickened."

"What's the damage?" Rogue asked quietly, "is it bad?"

The Professor held up the piece of paper to Logan only, well out of Rogue's sight.

Logan eyed it up and then gave a laugh, "That's what they want paid for the damages? For _puke?"_

Rogue blinked, "what is it?" she leaned forward to try and get a look at the balance.

"Never mind," the Professor folded the piece of paper away quickly and deposited it in a drawer. "I'll have it dealt with swiftly following this discussion."

"You're not _actually _going to pay that?" Logan snorted, "My last _car _wasn't that much."

"The mattress they have to replace was an expensive memory foam one...the vomit has _stained _it and cannot come out."

"Oh come on," Rogue groaned, "there were _mattress _protectors on that bed, Ah saw it myself when Ah went in to make the bed one mornin'."

"The wall apparently also needs repainted, and there was something about vomit on an expensive hand-woven rug. The sheets that were ruined were rather expensive Egyptian cotton...very high thread count. That woman tried to tell me that the thread count was something in the region of two thousand, which I find to be rather an exaggeration...I don't think I've seen anything over a thousand or so," the Professor shook his head in dismay. "I could have misheard or mistranslated, but I don't think I did."

"Still seems extortionate," Logan commented.

"Yes, well, they've also estimated how much money they will _lose _from not being able to rent the villa out while those repairs are taking place."

"They're just price gougin'," Rogue muttered.

"I don't doubt it," the Professor seemed to agree, "but what's done is done. The damage is there and it must be dealt with by someone."

"Remy will pay for it," Rogue responded.

"I will pay for it," said the Professor calmly, "and no more will be said about it. Let us just put all this unpleasantness behind us, shall we?"

Rogue looked away. She was certain Remy wouldn't be comfortable with the idea of this, he hadn't been all that comfortable with the Professor paying for minor repairs to his house back in Louisiana just so it was presentable to guests at the funeral. She was sure it would be a blow to his pride if the Professor had to pay for the mess he'd left from his worst binge yet.

There was a good moment of silence, the only thing breaking it was the loud ticking of a clock on the cabinet. Rogue felt almost mesmerised listening to it, it lulling her into a strange sense of numbness.

"I'm confused why you felt you couldn't come to us with his drinking problem, Rogue," Professor Xavier said finally. She'd been waiting for it since she'd come into the study a while ago. It had surprised her that he hadn't _opened _with that kind of a question.

No matter how much she had expected it to be said, it hurt to hear it phrased like that and it didn't matter how long it took for the question to come out, there was never a good time for it to be said, no tact could have made it sound any _nicer_. Drinking problem...it was like admitting Remy was an alcoholic. She didn't think he _was. "_Remy doesn't have a drinkin' problem, he-"

"How many nights durin' your vacation did he get drunk?" Logan queried, not giving her time to finish.

Rogue paused, "four...maybe? Ah mean...the night before last he had a _few _but...he wasn't...you know..._drunk._"

"You had alcohol on your breath, I noticed it when I arrived," Logan said quietly, his expression was slightly clouded with disappointment. "Didn't mention it at the time, had bigger fish to fry."

"It's not illegal there," Rogue commented coolly. "And this isn't _about _me," she swallowed hard, she tried to avoid the disappointment in the Professor's eyes. He was rather surprised to learn about this, she supposed he'd assumed she'd know better than to drink while watching someone who had a problem with it themselves. Then again, she supposed she'd thought the same about herself too.

"If you're drinking, then you're not on the ball when _he_ is," Logan reminded, his expression was hard. "You can't pay attention and watch out for him if you're getting wasted too."

"Look...Ah know it was stupid, okay?"

"You don't say," grunted her mentor.

"Ah had to! Ah was drinkin' _Remy's _drinks...Ah just...wanted to make sure he didn't get drunk that night."

_ "_So you admit he has a problem."

"No! He's not an alcoholic!"

_ "_Maybe you'd just like to believe he ain't," Logan reasoned.

"He's _not," _she reiterated.

_ "Perhaps," _said the Professor, "but this is something we have to be rather _careful _about. I'm sure you know why."

Rogue looked away guiltily. This was such a horrible conversation to have with anyone. Especially behind Remy's back. It felt unfair to speak of such things while he wasn't even there to _defend _himself against such accusations and assumptions.

"We have students to protect, Rogue. I have no issues with letting Gambit stay here, and join the team _eventually, _but I have to take the situation very seriously if he may be a _risk."_

"He's not a risk," she almost spat defensively.

"What was it you told me about him beatin' some guy up?" Logan raised an eyebrow.

Rogue instantly regretted she'd told Logan that, she realised it might have been more prudent to keep her mouth shut on such matters. She'd probably only made things more difficult for her fake husband.

_He'd have found out anyway, _Rogue thought dully. _Remy caught a few bruises from that fight in the club...Logan would notice._

"That...that doesn't count-" Rogue tried.

"He has a violent streak," Logan pointed out.

Rogue almost laughed at the absurdity of the statement, "so do _you._"

"I know how to handle it," Logan reminded.

Again, it was more absurd to hear than before; she'd seen quite a few of Logan's 'close calls' with his rage and it hadn't seemed to her then he knew how to handle it all that well. She thought it rather hypocritical he would pick up on _Remy's._

_ "_What happened?" asked the Professor, his expression focused.

"He...Ah guess got mad at this guy. We ran into the guy twice...some skinny jerk from England...made me pour coffee over myself a few days ago...and Remy lost the head at him. Ah thought he was gonna rip the guy's head off for somethin' so stupid, but the guy took off. Then we were in this club...this huge nightclub...and Ah was tryin' to get through the crowd and Ah ran into the same guy...ended up gettin' beer or somethin' all over us both. The guy used some...pretty mean words and...Remy lost it. Ah mean, Ah've seen him get mad at people, but he just _lost _it..."

"Like I said...a violent streak," Logan pointed out.

The Professor paused for a moment, his expression deep, almost distant, "A violent streak _and _a drinking problem are two _very _serious things we must be vigilant about. We have students to protect. We also have to protect _him._"

Rogue was caught between wanting to argue, thinking it a little cruel of the accusations to a man who wasn't even in the room, and wanting to _agree _with it because she'd seen those things first hand. She felt a sense of loyalty to Remy (despite he'd discarded her fairly swiftly after _using _her on the yacht) that she should fight in his corner while at the same time wanting to side with the Professor and Logan because she understood he _did _need help and _did _need supervising.

It was going to make things so very hard to deal with, she realised. She was going to have to be two sides of a coin sitting on it's side, spinning between them both. How was that going to be possible? She couldn't balance herself forever never picking a side.

Logan took the unlit cigar from his mouth, "Rogue...we need you to be _real _straight forward with us," he said, "if there's anythin' we should know..."

"Like _what?" _she asked, looking between the two. Panic surged through her at the thought they might suspect she'd actually been with Remy in ways that previously they might have _never _assumed she could have been. How disgusted would they be? How _disappointed?_

"Like...has he ever been that way towards _you?" _Logan asked, his voice was firm but there was a delicateness about it, he was being so careful about the way he said it. Despite the care he took to put it delicately, Rogue still heard the way it had been intended. _Does he ever smack you around._

She gaped at Logan, she couldn't believe he'd even ask that. Remy may have a temper towards men who he felt had done wrong, but he'd _never _hurt her that way. The implication of it hurt more than the implication that he might be an alcoholic.

"He...he never," Rogue shook her head in disbelief, "how can you ask that! You _know _how he is with me..."

"I know how he is," said Logan, "But...when I came out to see you last week you had a broken nose and black eyes..." he reminded.

"Ah told you-"

"I know what you _told _me, Rogue."

"You _know _he cares..." Rogue frowned.

"Yeah, I've seen a lot of men in the past who say they care about their wives and girlfriends, kid," Logan sniffed indignantly, "sayin' it before _and _after givin' em a good smack afterwards for one thing or the other. I want to hear you _say _that he's _never _touched you like that."

The Professor looked at Rogue, she felt that critical gaze, thick and heavy, painting her like judgemental tar.

"Like Ah said," Rogue folded her arms stubbornly, "Ah got hit in face with his elbow tryin' to stop a fight between him and his jerk of a brother and it was an _accident, _Ah got behind him and he caught me in the nose. That's _it_."

"Promise me that's _all _he's done," Logan looked at her.

"Ah promise," Rogue nodded. "He'd never hurt me...you know that."

The Professor looked at her, "for the moment, I think it would be wise if you distance yourself from him. I'm aware you're in a relationship and this could be considered _cruel_ or rather awkward but I think it might be for the best."

Rogue looked away, she wasn't sure she'd _have _to distance herself. Since the yacht, Remy had practically begun distancing himself immediately since the moment he'd withdrawn from her.

"I'm not suggesting you _break off _your relationship with him by any means. Although I must insist on the annulment of this marriage..."

"Ah don't see why," Rogue admitted, "Ah mean...it's fake so...why annul it?"

Logan and the Professor exchanged another glance; it was _Logan _who answered. "Lets face it, Rogue...you're not comfortable with the idea...you never were."

Rogue sighed, she hated the idea of _admitting_ she wasn't completely comfortable with the idea. It wasn't that she was against the idea of being married, but being married before even really properly establishing the relationship was rather daunting. They had to build foundations before putting up those kinds of walls and a roof.

"Listen..." Rogue sighed, "Ah've had nothin' but weeks thinkin' about this, can Ah have some time to just get over the _vacation_ before we got to figure this out?"

"If you wish," the Professor supposed, "but with annulment, the sooner the better."

"Ah know that. In the meantime Ah'd rather keep it under wraps...Ah don't want the others knowin'..." Rogue admitted, she hugged herself insecurely, "it's too complicated, they'd never understand."

"Wise for now, but they may learn the truth eventually," the Professor supposed, "if Remy cannot keep a secret."

"Remy can keep a secret."

"Not when he's pushed," Logan reminded.

It was hard _not _to be resentful at that moment, because if Logan _hadn't _pushed Remy to admit things he had, the situation might have never gotten worse. If not for Logan's prodding after the funeral, Rogue wondered if she'd have gone on vacation with a completely _different _Remy LeBeau, one with a completely _different _mindset.

"That will be all for now, Rogue," the Professor sighed, "you look tired, and I'm sure you'd like to settle back in."

"Actually..." Rogue sighed, "Ah think Ah'm gonna go work out for a lil' bit...feel a little tense right now."

"Good time to get it all out," Logan nodded, "go down, I'll come down a bit, train with you."

Rogue got up slowly from the couch, she still hurt from her encounter with Remy, although it was ebbing away slightly; she wasn't about to let either man know about the pain though and she tried her best to hide it.

She left the office and stood at the door for a moment, rubbing her head. All this stress was giving her a headache. She waited a few minutes, trying to gather her thoughts. It was hard to believe this was all happening. A month ago, her life had been relatively _normal _for a mutant. Now...everything was upside down.

Just as she was almost about to turn and leave, she heard the muffled voices of Logan and the Professor speaking in the study, and she pressed her ear to the wood to listen, closing her eyes and focusing.

"_Is it all as she says it is_?" the Professor was asking.

Logan paused, he seemed to pace a little, "I_'m not sure she's tellin' us everythin'. Then again, I'm not sure she really knows everythin' either._"

"_What do you mean_?"

"_Charles, that boy is a lot more messed up than I figured he was at first. Should have seen it...he was drunk as hell and a wreck. Ready to get behind the wheel of a convertible and drive off quite the thing. Talkin' cryptic about things...what that asshole did left him with a real mistrust of people. Men, specifically._"

"_I don't blame him, Logan_."

"I_ feel bad for the girl," said Logan after a moment, "she has no idea how bad it is..._"

"_How bad is it_?"

"_It's..._" Logan paused, then it all went silent. Rogue heard footsteps and she quickly shifted from the door and turned the corner, tiptoeing away. She heard the study door opening, Logan lurking at the doorway but saying nothing. He'd sensed her there or heard her, perhaps smelled the threat of her tears. Rogue turned quickly into the foyer and went upstairs. She wished she hadn't listened in.

* * *

><p>Remy sat up as the door as there was a soft knock at his door; he'd almost been close to dropping off, finding the bed strangely comfortable despite it's small size and inadequate mattress. He rubbed his head – which still throbbed a little from the hangover – and gazed towards the door, "yeah...?"<p>

The door opened slowly; he had hoped – and not hoped – for Rogue. Instead, there was the rather grim face of tall Scott Summers standing there, his ruby quartz glasses catching the light coming from the window, making them gleam and almost seem to sparkle strangely.

"Hi," said Scott, looking a little out of place, hovering, "I'm-"

"I know who y' are," Remy said, "Cyclops."

Scott seemed to give a sigh of frustration, "You...can call me Scott. It's preferable out of the field, actually."

"Fair enough," Remy replied, although he didn't correct himself and neither did he offer to allow the boy to call him by _his _first name. That was a little _too _familiar for him.

"I...just wanted to welcome you to the institute," Scott said; there was something almost _put out _about the way the boy stood there. As if he'd rather be somewhere else. Remy wondered if he'd been _asked _to check on him, asked to welcome him.

Remy said nothing, just eyed him up, trying to determine what it really was about the boy that Rogue had found so fascinating and loveable. He was good looking, certainly, although more in a _pretty-boyish _and rather _grim _sort of way. He had the body, the height, the clean cut style, the neat hair. It didn't make sense to Remy that someone like Rogue would fall for someone so...Scott Summers-ish.

"I...was surprised when they said you were coming," Scott said, Remy got the distinct impression the boy was examining the bruises on the left side of his cheek, his jaw and face still felt tight on one side every time he spoke or yawned.

"Who's _they_?" asked Remy, raising an eyebrow, wondering if Scott was trying to decide how those bruises had been gotten.

"The Professor...Logan. They mentioned it during a meeting a week ago but..I didn't believe it, really. I mean...you're not the first _Brotherhood _kid we've had show up, but-"

"Lets get one thing straight," Remy stood up slowly after slipping his shoes on and tying them quickly. "I'm not Brotherhood, nor was I _ever _Brotherhood, I was _Acolyte."_

Scott tilted his head, "is there much of a difference?"

"As much of a difference 'tween the _X-Men _and the group of _X-Babies_ y' got here."

"I assume you mean the New Mutants," Scott folded his arms.

"They could do wit' a better team name," Remy supposed.

"X-Babies certainly isn't an inventive one," Scott confessed.

"Appropriate though," Remy moved to the window and gazed outside, it was a beautiful day out there, birds were singing, slight breeze stirring the rose bushes in the gardens. He couldn't fully appreciate right now, he was too up tight to care about anything today. He was too tired and still too hungover to want to care.

"So in your opinion, the Acolytes were _major league _in comparison."

"You catch on fast," Remy responded rather dully.

"What...made you decide to join?"

Remy turned to look at Scott, eyeing him critically. He wasn't sure what the question referred to, whether it was to what had made him join the Acolytes, or what had made him want to join the X-Men. Either way, he felt slightly defensive in his response, "is this an interview? Am I bein' _assessed _t' determine whether I get to join the X-Men? Should I be takin' the time to properly _consider _my answers before givin' any?"

"No...I'm...just making conversation."

"I see."

"I was just curious is all. You never seemed the type to want to join us."

"I joined the Acolytes 'cause the money was good. I come _here _'cause everyone else disbanded. Ain' much work out there f' someone like me," Remy remarked, "Not much else t' say. Rogue said this was the place t' be for people like us. It is, ain' it?"

"Of course."

"So here I am," Remy pointed out.

"Fair enough..." Scott seemed troubled by the admission but didn't contest it. "I was asked to give you a tour of the place. I've been here longer than most so..."

Remy glanced towards the floor mirror in the corner, a dark silhouette had caught his eye, right behind himself. He could only see _half _of it, the angle was too diagonal to see the rest, but Jean-Luc was there all right, lurking at his back. His heart skipped a little, his neck tightened.

_He's here...followed me all the way, can't even go t' my room alone but he there, _Remy panicked, somehow managing to stay as composed as he could. "Fine. Show me what there is t' see."

It was tedious, following Scott Summers around and listening to the history of the mansion, the history and stories behind of some of the rooms. None of it was interesting – at least not in Remy's own opinion. Remy only cared about where _Rogue _was, and so far, he'd been in nearly every downstairs room and still not happened upon her. He'd hoped the tour would lead him to her eventually.

In the recreation room Scott was going on about rules about television privileges while Remy glanced around at the various photos on the wall. The X-Men certainly liked their 'family outings', their fun picnics and barbecues from what he could tell. Although they fought and argued (as far as he'd seen during his spying days) he could see in the photographs the smiles, the glimmering eyes, the way they _enjoyed _each others company. He could see the kind of relationship dynamics just from looking at a group photo, the way arms were around each other, the way cheeks would blush or smiles would be slight or wide. In most of those photos, Rogue was almost _always _on her own, standing off to the side somewhere.

Remy ran his finger across a large group photo on the wall, them sitting at a long table that looked to be as if it might be at a Pizza hut, half-eaten pizzas, garlic bread and an array of drinks littering the table. There was a little speck of dust on Rogue's face and he swept it away. He saw the look on her face, she looked hurt and he could only feel it was because Scott Summer's arm was around Jean Grey, the two fairly close, their cheeks almost pressed together.

Scott stopped to look at what Remy was observing, "Oh...that was the last time we all went for Pizza..."

Remy thought it odd, that people needed to take _photos _of themselves at places like Pizza hut...when had eating together become such an important photo worthy event? He'd shared many meals with Rogue now and hadn't ever thought to take a picture of them together. He wondered if perhaps he _should..._if that would be the norm.

_It's the kind of things families do, I suppose, _he thought dully. _Take photos of borin' shit to look back on..documentin' their relationships._

He tried to remember the last photo that had been taken of himself...not the photos from the wedding in Las Vegas, but a real photo, a candid. Had he _ever _had a photo taken with Jean-Luc? The thought came out of nowhere and he cringed a little inwardly.

"How well do you know Rogue?" asked Scott, watching Remy brushing the dust away from Rogue's shape in the photo, which was in the far corner, furthest away from the others.

_She's my wife. I took her virginity, _he was tempted to say, just to _annoy _the young man, just to torment him. He was almost certain that Scott had feelings for Rogue that had just never been requited. The boy may be unbelievably in love with Jean Grey, that was certain, but his head could always be turned, especially if he discovered that there was a work around Rogue's powers.

_Don't give it away, Rogue is already pissed with me enough, I don't need this drama right now, _Remy reminded himself dully. _Jus' play nice like she asked, after yesterday...whatever I did...best t' play along wit' whatever she ask of me...even if that includes bein' civil with one-eye._

"Well enough," he replied, feeling the answer to be neutral, neither confirming anything _nor _denying anything. Rogue couldn't ask for fairer than that.

"You spent...what...three weeks with her? You must know her about as well as _we _do by now," Scott supposed.

Remy took his hand away from the photo of Rogue, he for one moment almost imagined perhaps Jean-Luc might appear there too in that photo. He took his eyes away from it. "Still waters run deep," he said quietly.

"Oh?" Scott replied.

Turning to look at the boy, Remy examined the expression as best he could, it was hard to tell without seeing someone's eyes. "Rogue is Rogue, what else can I say?" he corrected himself, he tried not to be too obvious about it.

"Yeah...Rogue is Rogue," supposed Scott.

"Y' used t' have a thing for her, didn't y'?" Remy eyed him.

Scott looked momentarily confused, "hmm?"

"You...y' used t' spend a lot of time with Rogue," Remy said, he held his tongue from adding _before y' decided y' liked red bush much better._

"Rogue is my friend..." Scott turned away for a moment, seeming to be distracted or rather, in Remy's opinion, _feigning _distraction to seem rather innocent.

"Never anythin' more?" Remy asked, trying not to sound too interested.

"It's..." Scott faltered.

"Complicated?" Remy raised an eyebrow.

"No...not complicated. Rogue is my friend. Simple as that. Why?"

"Y' used t' spend a lot of time with her is all," Remy shrugged, "Before y' start goin' with the redhead, anyways."

"Oh..." Scott mouthed the word.

"Always figured you and Rogue would end up t' gether."

Scott looked at him curiously – at least Remy read it as curiously...it was so hard to tell with those eyes hidden. "Why are you so interested in my friendship with Rogue?"

"Not interested," Remy remarked, "Jus' curious, is all. Jus' tryin' t' establish what's what, here, who's who...who's _wit' _who. After all, wouldn' wan' be accused of tryin' t' hit on anyone's girl or anything."

"I wouldn't suggest you hit on _anyone,_ Gambit. This is a school...not a singles bar."

Remy shrugged and looked away, he picked up another photo from the cabinet by the wall, examining it, it was off the New Mutants. He couldn't remember half of their names, and vaguely only remember half of their gifts.

"Besides," Scott said, "Looks like you're already attached."

Remy blinked, "Pardon?" he turned to look at Scott strangely. Had Rogue mentioned something to him already? Had he overheard something being said?

"That's a wedding ring, isn't it?"

Remy dropped his eyes to his left hand, true enough he had forgotten to take off his wedding ring. It hadn't occurred to him to remove it and he supposed even if he did try to remove it now, there would most likely be a white band on his skin cutting through his deep tan. "This?" he asked, "It's jus' a plain ol' ring I found in New York a while ago...decided t' keep it. Only finger it fit on, really. Brought me a bit of luck when I went t' Vegas."

"You hit the jackpot?"

"Could say that," Remy supposed. Yes, he supposed the biggest Jackpot he could have ever left Las Vegas with had been his wife. "Ring don' come off now," he said, "It's my lucky charm."

"You don't think it's going to _cramp _your style?" Scott seemed almost bemused.

Remy gazed down at the ring thoughtfully, "got lucky wit' a married woman while I was wearin' it, so don' seem t' affect much."

"Okay then," Scott didn't seem to know how to take the comment. "Come, let me show you the rest of the mansion."

Remy followed Scott through the rest of the halls, feeling barely tolerant of being in his company. He wasn't sure if it was because of his previous ties to Rogue, or simply because he wasn't in the mood and still feeling quite hungover. And then there was Jean-Luc...more than once he was almost certain he sensed the presence of his adoptive father lurking at his back, and he was determined to _not _look over to check; the less he saw of the bastard, the better.

The tour was concluding in the basement floor of the mansion, which to Remy's disappointment, wasn't one of the Sub-basements, which despite his reluctance to really be on a tour at all, he felt almost enthusiastic to see merely because of the things he'd heard about the rooms hidden far underground. "When am I gon' see the base?" Remy asked, walking at Scott's side, hands in the pockets of his jeans.

"The base?" Scott turned and looked at him critically, "You mean the sub-basements?"

"Whatever y' call the secret hideout," Remy shrugged, Scott had led him into a rather large laundry room, two washing machines were on a spin cycle, the other three empty. Remy felt slightly befuddled why Scott would feel a laundry room to be an interesting place to tour.

"You don't have clearance to be down there yet," Scott replied, the way he put it seemed rather simple, as if it should have been _obvious._

"Clearance? Y' all actin' like this the FBI or CIA or somethin'..."

"It's like you said, it's a base...and there's a lot of things down there that you have to have clearance to see."

"In other words, y' don' trust me," Remy leaned casually upon an ironing board.

"I don't have an opinion on the subject," Scott replied.

"And...if y' did?" Remy dared to ask.

"Even if I did...I'm not the one in charge..."

"Thought y' were a team leader," Remy contested, feeling a little miffed by the evasion of a proper answer.

"I am, but it doesn't give me authority to dictate who gets to go where. That's the Professor's decision. And right now, he's stipulated that he wants you on the mansion floors only."

"That's it?"

"I wouldn't take it too personally," Scott advised, "it's the rules with all of us."

"How long for?"

"I don't know," Scott replied truthfully.

"How am I gon' train if I don't get t' go down there?"

"You'll be chaperoned when the time comes. But you won't get the clearance codes, you won't be authorised to go alone."

_I guess when y' a thief and known t' work wit' the enemy, y' shouldn't be surprised when people don' trust y', _Remy tried to see it logically, tried to push away the slight unsaid accusation of mistrust that seemed to be implied. _I probably could jus' find a way t' get down there myself, find out all the codes. How much shit would that get me int' wit' them? I suppose I should jus' play nice like Rogue wants though._

Thinking of Rogue only made him wonder why _Rogue _wasn't the one showing him around his new home. It seemed wrong, and he felt so oddly abandoned thinking of it.

"Okay, so," Scott patted a washing machine, "Laundry room, you'll need to know how to use this stuff. Straight forward, most washers have a standard set wash, the instructions are printed on the wall here..." Scott gestured to a laminated instruction leaflet hanging from the wall, "You probably already how to do a laundry, most likely I don't need to stand here and give you a tutorial."

"Y' all do your own laundry then?" Remy raised an eyebrow. He'd almost thought perhaps that a place this size might have cleaning staff. He wondered if this was where _child labour _was put into play.

"Yes," Scott replied.

"I see."

"How do _you _get your laundry done? Your mom?" Scott scoffed.

Remy frowned, "I ain' got any parents," he admitted, he almost wished he hadn't – the less anyone knew about him the better - but he couldn't resist the urge to embarrass the boy.

Scott's cheeks seemed to flush, his expression shifted to guiltily, "sorry, I know how that goe-"

_"Room service," _Remy interrupted, he merely had wanted to embarrass the guy, he didn't need nor _want _his sympathy. "Hotels...get the staff t' do it f' me."

"I...see," Scott sighed, "Well...you'll do your own here...plus when it's your turn on the chore rota, you'll need to do bedding and towels."

Remy wondered if he'd be able to pay off someone to do his for him. He wasn't above chores but he hated laundry, he usually always ruined something, whether it be his jeans getting shrunk, his t-shirts getting dyed or ruined or his socks going missing. That was why he almost always got hotel staff or dry cleaners to do his laundry for him when he could. "I always assumed y' had _maids _t' do this shit."

"You mean to say you spied on us all that time and it didn't occur to you that you never saw _staff _enter the house?"

"Could have had live in staff," Remy shrugged.

"No. We don't have staff here, it's too complicated, too...well, you know how it goes. So many secrets, too much could be passed along, could get us into a lot of trouble. Besides, I don't think a lot of staff could _handle _this place," Scott chuckled as turned the light off in the laundry room as they left, "try to turn lights off when you leave rooms, this place costs a fortune to power and the Professor is trying to be _environmentally friendly, _everything is energy saving here...but don't leave lights burning if no one is in there..." he led the way down a long narrow hall, "last room on this floor...dojo..." he pushed the door open, the lights were on inside and there was the sounds of a woman's grunting. "Oh...sorry, didn't know anyone was in here..."

Remy peered over Scott's shoulder, Rogue and Logan were within, sparring. Rogue looking lithe and toned in yoga pants and a tank top over some kind of mesh body-stocking. The way she looked caused his blood to rise just a little, his heart to throb. It almost felt like an _eternity _already since he'd seen her last. He sighed inwardly.

_Yeah, that's why she ain' showin' y' around, Remy, _he thought at himself bitterly. _She wanted t' get back t' trainin' with Wolverine. Couldn' wait._

Rogue stopped what she was doing, turning to look at the intrusion. Remy took the briefest moment to examine the flush in her cheeks from the exercise, the way the sweat made her shine. He moved his eyes swiftly from her, not wanting to make eye contact. Being so close to her right now was excruciating. Part of him wanted to reach out and touch her merely for the sake of it, the other part of him shuddered at the thought in case Jean-Luc should crop up once again.

Logan swept sweat from his brow, his muscles (exposed by a rather tight tank top) gleamed under the harsh strip lighting, every bulge glistened, hard and defined, veins popping, chest hair pushing it's way out of his collar. Remy found himself thinking perhaps it was no _surprise _Rogue admired the man so much...in addition to that rather cold demeanour, the gruff voice, the steely eyes, he was rugged, rough round the edges and burly, a good centre of gravity about him and the way he moved, everything about his appearance alone and his _confidence _probably made him irresistible to some of these girls.

"It's okay," Rogue said, her voice was thick and tired, she sounded frustrated as she picked up her towel from where it had hung on a nearby beam, and wiped her neck with it. Remy noticed she wasn't looking at him, noticed that she seemed to flush far pinker at his presence. He drew his eyes from her, feeling that tightness in his chest again, the thick fog of Jean-Luc's presence seemed to close around him.

_She can't look at me much either right now, guess she's still pissed off wit' me._

"I was just showing Gambit the layout," Scott explained, he stepped further in.

Logan eyed Remy and Remy eyed right back, neither said anything. There was an awkwardness for a moment, Remy decided to break the silence, fake his way through this like he did everything else.

"When do I start trainin'?" Remy asked Logan, wanting to get straight to the point rather than work his way around asking.

"Not yet," Logan replied.

"Why?"

"You're not ready."

"Says _who?"_

_ "Me,_" Logan snorted, "You've got a few injuries you'll need to rest up."

"My face?" Remy touched his cheek with his left hand absently, "It's fine..."

"Your _hand_," gestured Logan, he grabbed a hold of Remy's wrist roughly and held it up, "it's swollen. When did you do that? It wasn't like this yesterday."

"Trapped it in a door," Remy lied, he straightened up a little, and tried not to yank his hand away too quickly for fear of showing his aversion to letting the guy touch him, "caught it in the door before we left."

"Why didn't you say?"

"It didn' hurt. Doesn't hurt now."

Rogue's eyes were _right _on him now, he could see the look of doubt from his peripheral vision but she didn't fight him on it, he wasn't sure if it was in attempt to seem less _concerned _about it to hide her feelings, or simply because she didn't want to try and bring up the reasoning behind the injury.

"You can move it?" Logan asked, he pressed his fingers lightly on the hand, Remy flinched back and then tried to pretend that it was more to do with frustration rather than anxiety and pain.

"Yes," Remy held his hand within his open left. "It's jus' swollen is all."

"Looks like it hurts to me," Logan decided. "Scott, maybe you should take him to see Hank...get that checked out," Logan suggested.

"Sure, I still have to show him where the medical bay is anyway," Scott supposed.

"I'm fine, Jesus, it's a lil' swellin', not anythin' to worry about."

"All the same...you need to have that checked," Logan said, "You can't train and spar with an injured hand. It your dominant hand?"

Remy looked away, shaking his head inwardly at the disgust of the _fuss _being made.

"He's right handed," Rogue spoke up, it was _too quickly _that she said it, and far too _knowingly. _She quickly elaborated, "when he swings with his bo-staff, it's usually from the right."

Remy flicked his eyes to her briefly, it hurt to look. He could still sense her anger with him over his getting drunk again, over the mess he'd made of the room, over his being _ill _with a severe hangover. He could also sense her anger in his inability to connect with her right now after what had happened on the yacht. He wondered when they were going to be able to talk it out privately.

_Even if we do get time...how am I supposed t' explain it? _He wondered. _I can't tell her about Jean-Luc, if I did, that'd be it for us...she'd never look at me the same again._

"Yeah, you're not training until that's checked and healed," Logan said, "if there's any fractures there, you're likely just going to _break _something; you'll be out of commission longer."

"A broken hand wouldn' stop me from-"

"Yes, it would," Logan interrupted, Remy disliked the way he was so interruptive and commanding on _everything. _ He wasn't sure he was going to be able to stand that kind of attitude on a near daily basis.

"We don't put injured people out in the field," Scott spoke up, "come on, let me show you where the medical bay is."

Remy tried to give Rogue a meaningful look, hoping she'd fight for him that he didn't need help with the hand. It _hurt _to look at her still, he just couldn't do it and even though he tried he could tell Rogue wasn't even looking at him. She wasn't about to fight in his corner right now.

_Yeah, I guess I deserve that, _he supposed. He realised there was probably no guessing about it.

* * *

><p><strong>End of Part One<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>I hope you all enjoyed the first part and I hope you're all having a nice weekend. <strong>


	2. Part Two

**BENEATH THE SURFACE**

**Part Two**

* * *

><p>Remy stared down at his bandaged hand; the elastic bandage Hank had decided to make him wear was supposed to help support the hand, but all it did was make his circulation slightly poor and his fingers look a little red. Hank McCoy had been pleasant and rather easy to talk with, but Remy hadn't been able to settle easily with him. He'd spent the entire time silently wondering how much <em>gossip <em>had already been spread about him between the instructors here. By now, he suspected all four had held lengthy discussions about his _shameful _experiences as a child. To avoid having to linger in the medical bay any longer than he'd had to, he'd withheld information about his injured shoulder, feeling that it was only going to be another complication, another delay to his being allowed to train.

Right now, other than his desire to be near Rogue – hard to look at right now as she was or not – the thought of training and working some of the nervous energy out of his system was _all _he had to look forward to.

Now, he was sat quietly on the couch in the Professor's private study. He'd been called in via the new communicator he'd been given, been told where to go and had arrived to a congenial but faintly almost _cautious _introduction by Professor himself.

Remy usually read people rather well, but found it difficult with this man; he was _very _hard to read. His expression was so stoic and stern, barely changing. Xavier's eyes were a rather cold and almost _unfeeling _blue but he spoke with a rather polite and congenial manner full of university snobbery and good upbringing. There was a gentleness in his voice that left Remy thinking perhaps the old man could insult people with the worst words imaginable and still sound cultured and polite about it. He wouldn't of course, he was far too _restrained _for that type of behaviour, Remy felt.

"How is your hand?" the Professor asked, he was sitting in his wheelchair, leaning forward and pouring tea into china cups. The tray had been there upon his arrival and Remy thought this was ridiculous. Being invited to have _tea? _It seemed rather bizarre...especially given once upon a time they'd been enemies.

Eighteen years on this Earth, _no _one had ever poured him tea from a teapot before. He'd always been handed it in a cup, never had there been a ceremony or polite ritual about it all. Tea wasn't his thing, he usually generally only opted for it if there was no coffee available or if it looked like the coffee may be the _instant _variety, his only experience of tea had been from teabags, never like this, not with expensive little silver strainers and fine china cups and saucers. It felt a little quaint...a little too _English _for his liking.

"It feels fine," Remy tried to focus on what had been asked, he gave a slight shrug to indicate how fine he felt and then chided himself inwardly for shrugging; his shoulder, which he'd hurt when being turfed out of the nightclub nights ago in St. Tropez, still hurt and he was sure he must have winced. He was glad the Professor was too focused on pouring the tea – he might not have noticed.

"I know it's an inconvenience to be injured, when I spoke to Hank earlier, he said you were rather eager to get yourself into training."

"Well...I've been on hiatus, y' know, vacation and all, and when y' on vacation y' kind o' take a rest," Remy pointed out, he accepted the cup and saucer the Professor handed him, he gazed down at it feeling strangely lost.

"Indeed. Everyone needs time to rest, and settle," the Professor agreed, "honey?" he asked, "or sugar."

"I..." Remy stared down at the silver tray, slightly distracted by all this ceremony and civility. "Sugar..."

"One lump or two?"

Remy laughed nervously at this, "Jus' one."

The Professor used a small pair of intricate silver tongs to drop the lump into the cup. Remy watched curiously, noting he could just detect the slightest trace of a hallmark on the tongs. They were _definitely _real silver.

"So...y' can afford antique silver tongs and hundred year old Limoge," Remy said, "so...I guess y' doin' well f' y' self," he jested.

The Professor raised an eyebrow, "you know antiques?"

"A lil'...it was drilled int' me. When y' a thief y' gotta know what's worth things...it ain' all about electronics and jewellery, y' know. Sometimes it's antiques...vases, plates. This tea set...I stole one like it about a year ago; it made a pretty penny."

"Yes, they do cost an awful lot," the Professor supposed, "this has been in my family for years. I believe my Grandfather purchased it in nineteen-twelve."

Remy gazed down into his cup as the Professor stirred the tea with a silver spoon. There was something a little mesmerising about the whirlpool it caused in the cup, the deep amber liquid swirling. He wondered how many times this cup itself had been drank from. How many cups of tea had been consumed over the years?

"Do you like milk?"

"I'll have as is," Remy replied.

"My father," began the Professor, "he drank tea habitually. With every meal, with his morning paper...last thing at night. If there was a _crisis, _his first response was to have someone make tea," he raised his own cup to his lips neither taking sugar, honey nor milk. "A nasty shock in the family...make the tea. Someone has fainted? Go make tea...it was his favourite cure-all. And he was _so _particular about tea. We would sometimes argue for an hour over the way it was poured."

"There's another way?" Remy raised an eyebrow, "figured it was all one."

"Yes, I used to pour the milk in first. He would get rather...petty and snobbish, accuse me of being a _MIF._"

Remy glanced curiously at the man, "a _MIF?_"

"Milk In First," the Professor explained, he gave the tiniest roll of his eyes which made him suddenly seem far more _human _than Remy had thought initially. "He thought it something that was rather unrefined. Not unhappy enough with just the milk in first, but he would constantly complain that I put _far _too much milk in the cup and weakened the tea, ruined the flavour and quality of what he would class _an exquisitely fine brew._ Eventually, for the sake of preventing arguments, I simply stopped taking milk altogether."

There was something in that revelation, Remy realised. There was a _tact _to this...he wished he'd seen it before. It wasn't just Xavier was trying to put him out of his comfort zone, but he was using this as a trampoline to get onto a subject that Remy didn't even want to remotely touch with a bargepole.

"Years later, I tried tea with milk...and somehow just couldn't find the same pleasure in it. It simply wasn't the same any more."

Remy sighed quietly, and took a sip from the tea, the temperature was just right, the tea was slightly too sweet even with one sugar. It was too strong, not his taste, but he wouldn't complain, wouldn't give the Professor the satisfaction.

"I hadn't thought of it in years until now," the Professor stared down into his own cup for a moment, "sometimes it doesn't occur to one just how a father can shape the way you live your life until much later, until it gets much harder to change it."

Shifting in his seat, trying not to seem too uncomfortable about it, Remy responded rather casually as he could, "I'm not sure what y' gettin' at, Professor."

Professor Xavier tilted his head, his eyes met Remy's, "odd, because from the moment I started speaking, I sensed you understood perfectly."

"Are y' readin' my mind, Professor?" Remy dared to ask, feeling slightly defensive.

"Of course not, from the second you stepped into this building I knew you would be impossible to read; you're very guarded, aren't you?"

Remy paused, he wasn't sure how to answer that. Like his charm, his resistance to most telepathics tended to be rather natural, never forced nor thought of. He wasn't sure he wanted the Professor _knowing _that. Knowing that particular gift happened naturally without thought probably meant it was just as likely to _fail _under the same circumstances. He wasn't about to let the Professor see any weaknesses – he already knew enough as it was.

"Nevertheless, regardless of how carefully guarded we can be, feelings do sometimes get projected, understandings, ideas. Those under heightened emotional stress-"

Remy put his cup down on the table, his hand was shaking a little and he didn't want it clattering against the saucer so he'd rather put it down. "I don't know what y' mean. Ain' no one under any heightened emotional stress here."

"I'd assume anyone who had to bury their father a week ago would be under _some _ emotional stress," Professor Xavier admitted.

He had too much nervous energy to sit here, he stood up slowly, moving to the nearest window – far behind the Professor's desk – to gaze out at the gardens. The view was beautiful, summer roses in full bloom, large pink hydrangeas exploding from thick bushes, fuschias dancing in the breeze.

"Only stress I'm under is how much I paid t' bury him. That tombstone cost more than he probably earned in the last five years o' his life," Remy quietly remarked. "Should have stuck a weight on him and tossed him in the Bayou Corne sinkhole...would have been quicker," he muttered. "Probably what he'd have done for me...although he'd have grudged havin' t' pay for the weight."

Remy found himself almost _kicking _himself that he hadn't considered this a possibility at the time. It'd have been a rather good alternative to an overpriced funeral. No one would have needed to know...at least not until the damn sinkhole would have burped up the corpse later like it did with the junk that got thrown into it. By then he'd have been _far _gone, no one would have cared to hunt him down for the misdeed.

The Professor wheeled over, "perhaps you should speak to someone about this."

"I'm speakin' t' you, ain' I?" Remy pointed out, although he wasn't going to elaborate much more on anything. He'd talked about Jean-Luc far enough this year as it was. He'd rather forget the bastard ever existed...it'd be much easier if he'd stop _popping up_ everywhere as of late...if people would stop mentioning him like they thought he actually _needed _reminding.

"Someone qualified."

"Qualified?" Remy scoffed.

"Perhaps it might help."

"I don't need help," Remy turned to stare at him, "I'm fine."

"It is easy to tell people you feel fine, but on the inside..."

"On the inside I'm as fine as the out," Remy folded his arms casually, his fist hurt a little as he did so and he tried not to wince. "All that's wrong wit' me right now is I ain' been workin' out, ain' been usin' my powers and I been out of action a good while 'cause of all the complications. It's been a nice lil' vacation and all but I need t' get back int' some kind of semblance of the only normal _I _ever knew."

"And you think being pushed immediately back into training is going to help."

"Yes, I do."

"With an injured hand, I don't see that being possible right now. A hairline fracture can easily become a break under the right kind of pressure and put you out of commission for far longer," Professor Xavier said politely.

"Yeah, Logan gave me that spiel," Remy said bitterly, feeling it was all just an excuse to keep him out of the team entirely. "But I can't jus' stand around doin' _nothin' _all day. I came here t' be one of y' all...why y' so reluctant t' let me be? Y' think I gon' be a liability?" Remy queried.

"Of course not. If anything you would be an asset to the team. For now, I would be more than happy to let you observe the team in training for the time being, until Hank is happy that hand is healed."

"That's it? Observe? My hand feels fine..."

"Hank told me otherwise, and I'm more inclined to trust his judgement."

"Observing...that...jus' ain' what I expected," Remy grumbled. He hated to complain, but this was frustrating. Coming here was nothing like how he had expected.

"You think training is all about the Danger Room? About being in the field?"

"I suppose," Remy shrugged.

"No...training goes much deeper. You'll train on the technology in the war room, you'll learn about strategy and planning, you'll learn how to assist with field missions from here, _and _from the Blackbird. You'll even be given flying lessons."

"Flying lessons?" Remy was almost intrigued.

"Eventually," the Professor nodded, "Now back to the original subject," he continued, "I think it would be _helpful _for you to perhaps see someone about your grief..."

"Y' think I'm _grievin'?_" Remy raised an eyebrow. "Do I _look _like I'm grievin'? Y' see any _tear stains _on this face?"

"I think you're putting on a rather brave face."

"Y' might think that, but y' don' know me at all. _This _is the only face I wear, period."

"Like you pointed out, Gambit. I'm telepathic, and rather empathic...I can _feel _things you may even be suppressing, whether deliberately or not."

"I'd thank y' kindly t' stay out of my head," Remy warned, trying to keep his tone from being too sharp. The thought of the Professor flicking away at the things going on in his head left him feeling rather violated. "If I say I ain' sufferin' grief, then take it as my word."

The Professor was about to speak, but Remy quickly interjected.

"Would you feel grief? The bastard took me in under the guise of his _son _but used me as an _employee, _an asset. He used me t' fund his habits, t' take care of business _he _should have took care of. I'm not grievin' for him any more than I'd grieve f' the loss of a _job _I hated that I'd been _fired _from," Remy explained sternly.

Considering these words, the Professor tried again, "How about counselling for any other things that may be bothering you?"

Remy raised an eyebrow. He knew _precisely _what the Professor was touching upon. He supposed he should be thankful enough the man was sensitive enough not to put it into blatant words. To _hear _it for what it was would feel like someone had rubbed a lemon on a rather large deep paper cut.

_No...worse than that, _Remy decided. The thought alone of Charles Xavier knowing those things about him – things he'd never wanted _anyone _to know – left him feeling rather exposed. He was stripped bare and left somewhere in the North Pole being sliced up by icy winds of judgement and speculation. Each stung worse than the next, even if he didn't know what those judgements were, he could only imagine.

"Jus' t' get this straight," Remy drew a breath, trying to gain control of the situation, "I'm comin' here of my own free will, and because I'm eighteen, I ain't under any kind of legal guardianship, right? I mean, as far as the _law _is concerned, y' ain' got any _real_ control of me, right?"

"Right," the Professor nodded, he seemed slightly disappointed by the turn the conversation had taken. He almost seemed rather disappointed that Remy _understood _exactly how little control the Professor _really _had over him.

Remy gazed at him, "then...I don't have t' do anythin' I don't want t' do...?"

"Technically, no."

"Then..." Remy paused, "I _appreciate _the offer of the help and all, don' get me wrong, but no thanks."

"I do suggest you reconsider."

"My mental health is pretty as a picture, jus' like me," Remy forced a dazzling smile, smiling hurt his cheek, he couldn't imagine why it hurt worse now than when he'd been caught in the face by that British guy days ago. He wondered if in his drunken stupor he may have fallen on his face and banged it.

The Professor seemed to rethink his strategy, he gave a soft sigh, "perhaps I am being hasty in this suggestion when you've not even had time to properly adjust and settle into your new home. I simply want you to be aware that _all _the options will be available to you should you need them."

"Thanks, but no thanks," Remy said, trying to make it sound as absolutely polite as possible.

"There is..._one _thing I _will _insist on," the Professor gestured back to the couch, his electric chair heading towards it.

Remy followed and took a seat, he'd thought this would be the end of discussion, not a jumping board for more. He expected to have it out now about the annulment. Remy already had been considering his replies to _that _subject for hours now.

"It's a delicate subject, but it must be addressed," Professor Xavier picked his teacup up and sipped, "the subject of your..."

"My...?"

"Alcoholism."

"Jesus H. Christ, I am _not _an alcoholic," Remy rolled his eyes, "I don' know _what _Rogue's been tellin' y'..."

"You need to understand, Gambit. This is a school, and I take the care of my students very seriously. And one slip – and I mean _one single _slip with alcohol is all it would take for _you _to be dismissed."

"I hardly ever drink," Remy folded his arms and leaned back against the couch, he tried to be as casual as possible, tried to hide how uncomfortable this all was.

"You spent a week getting drunk almost every night."

"Is that what Rogue tol' y'?" Remy asked suspiciously.

"Logan."

"And how would he know? Rogue tell him that?" Remy frowned.

"Believe it or not, Logan's senses are so acute he can smell it on you even _days _after, whether you have showered or not."

"So fine. I drank a bit," Remy admitted, he couldn't help feeling the irritation that these things had been discussed without him even present in the room to defend himself. He couldn't also help feel the irritation that Rogue probably _had _talked about it with the Professor and Logan. He wished he didn't feel so betrayed about it; there'd been a day he'd have shrugged it off, water off a duck's back. "It was a vacation, it's what guys my age do. Y' never cut loose when y' was my age?"

"How much do you drink?" the Professor asked, ignoring the question. Remy supposed he hadn't expected an answer anyway.

"Don' y' mean how much _did _I drink?" Remy frowned a little. "Y' ask that like y' think I'm still drinkin' right now."

"Then how much _did _you drink?" The Professor rephrased.

"I don't know, I never _counted _bottles or shots...glasses. I'm like most...I stop when I get my fill_,_" Remy supposed. "But...I only drink when I'm out on the town, only when I'm away for a week. It doesn't happen when I'm focusin' on work. "

"And do you take drugs?"

Remy laughed weakly; it was the only response he could force that seemed to stop it from almost _stinging._ "Y' for real? Y' askin' me if I'm a junkie now? Not bad enough y' accuse me of bein' a drunk..."

"It's standard policy to make sure the students who come here understand the regulations regarding alcohol and drugs. I have to insist you take a drugs test."

"A drugs test. Really?" Remy scoffed, "Y' do this t' every one?"

"Yes," said the Professor; Remy hadn't expected that response. "In fact...periodically we do. Surprise drug testing is one of our policies. I told you that I take the care of my students _very _seriously."

"Who'd be crazy enough t' bring drugs int' a house with a human sniffer dog?" Remy asked, referring to Logan. "Guy could probably smell a dog fart in Afghanistan all the way from here. Y' would have t' be _stupid _t' even attempt t' bring a drug here."

"Common sense doesn't always apply when it comes to teenagers," sighed the Professor, "I'll have Hank drop the cup off in your room for you to fill at your convenience."

"It'll come up clean," Remy assured, "Other than maybe a little leftover Jack Daniels in there, y' probably not gon' come across much more than nicotine."

"And that is your word?"

"That's my word."

"Just so you know," the Professor spoke up, "we don't keep alcohol here in this mansion. You will not find any substances to abuse here, even the _mouthwash _is non-alcohol based. Contrary to what you might hear, I do _not _have a wine cellar anywhere in the basement, nor do I have a _secret stash _of Scotch hidden in this office despite what rumours you may hear. Even the instructors do not bring alcohol here, and we do not tolerate _smoking _either."

"Fine."

"Our policy with any student with a history of substance abuse, whether it be alcohol or otherwise is to closely monitor their behaviour. Don't take it personally if you find yourself being observed from time to time."

Remy groaned, "y' really over-reactin' t' this, aren't y'?"

"Not over-reacting. Over _protecting, perhaps,"_ the Professor supposed. "Lets go over the list of rules and then I'd like you to look over some forms."

"Forms?"

"In eventuality that anything happens to you, if medical care needs to be administered or...if hard decisions must be made, someone must be responsible for the decisions."

"Like if I get seriously hurt and _life support _needs t' be switched off?" Remy raised an eyebrow.

"If any kind of specific medical care should be administered in case of your incapacity or inability to make the decisions yourself..." the Professor explained kindly. "Such as a life-saving operation."

"T' be honest, Professor," Remy stated calmly, "I appreciate the _offer _t' take care of my welfare and all – it's more than _Jean-Luc _ever did. But I already decided long before now that Rogue is t' be the one t' have power over _anythin' _that happens t' me, whether it be some kinda life threatenin' thing, or who gets t' control my money if I kick the bucket. Soon as I'm settled here, gon' have meetin's with a lawyer or whoever else y' have put in control of that t' make sure she has complete control of it all. Besides...she's my _wife, _it should be her."

"Perhaps it would be wise to put these matters in the hands of someone more mature," the Professor suggested, Remy was surprised that the mention of Rogue being his wife didn't seem to even faze the man nor bring up the subject of annulment, "someone who has experience of dealing with these matters."

Remy wasn't sure he trusted the idea of this. "No. Y' insist on the drug test, _fine, _I'll take the damn drug test, but y' won' budge me on this one thing."

"You should take some time to think everything we've discussed over. I realise I have probably overwhelmed you with a lot of things. For now, finish your tea, we'll go over the rules. Then...I shall give you the tour of the sub-basement. Scott told me you're rather keen to see it."

Lifting his cup to his lips, Remy wryly thought it didn't matter how much time he was offered, no decision was ever likely to change regarding any of the things discussed.

* * *

><p>Rogue stretched across her bed, clad in her bathrobe after her long shower following training with Logan. Her body ached from using muscles that she hadn't in weeks, her mind seemed heavy with exhaustion in a far different way than it usually did with worry.<p>

It felt good to be stretched over her own bed again, the familiar blankets, the same pillows. She pulled a pillow to her face and breathed in the scent of the brand of laundry detergent that she'd grown so fond of since moving here. The fact the scent was so strong told her that Scott had been the last one to do the laundry, he never measured, just poured liberally and turned the thing on. There was something comforting about that, an almost sense of normalcy, that nothing had changed while she was away.

She closed her eyes, wanting to drift off into a comfortable nap before dinner, she maybe had an hour, an hour was all she needed to try and rest her mind a little before then. Before she'd have to try and keep herself together at a dinner table with Remy and the others...it would be more exhausting than being _alone _with him, it'd be a struggle to try and keep him from blabbing about their fake marriage.

Just as she had felt herself almost about to drop off, a sound coming from the vicinity of her dresser disturbed her and she sat bolt up right. The last person she'd have expected to see was Tabitha Smith standing there raking through her makeup drawer.

"Tab..." Rogue said groggily; she hadn't even been aware the girl had returned to the mansion. She had a history of coming and going, never staying for much longer than a few months before disappearing off for one reason or another.

"Crap...sorry, I thought you were out like a light...did I wake you?" Tabitha turned quickly, she gave a slightly nervous smile at having been caught.

"Ah'd have had to have been asleep first," Rogue supposed, rubbing her left eye tiredly. "What are you lookin' for?"

"I'm looking for some makeup..." Tabitha grunted, "Jamie said I wear too much makeup and I look like a drag queen, and I guess he thought it'd be _oh _so hilarious if him and his dupes just took all the makeup in my bag. I'm guessing he...they...whatever you'd call that _jerk _probably hid it all over the stupid mansion."

Rogue laughed vaguely. She'd forgotten about these silly trivial problems; she'd been the brunt of more than one of those childish pranks herself. "That's how they like to have fun," she commented, "Bobby once took every pair of shoes I had and completely encased them in _huge _blocks of ice the size of a car."

Tabitha smirked, "why?"

"'Cause Ah said he was immature," Rogue commented. "It took forever for those shoes to thaw. One pair got ruined...the ice caused the patent to crack and peel off. Ah was so pissed, those boots cost me a hundred bucks."

"Damn...I hope Bobby never finds out I use his deodorant."

"Why are you usin' a boys deodorant?"

"It's always _out_ in the bathroom...it's not _my _fault he leaves it right there for anyone to use."

"But...isn't that the boys bathroom?"

"Yeah...but...it's way closer to my room than the girls one," Tabitha supposed.

"Why not get your own deodorant?"

"I like the one he uses."

"So _buy _some," Rogue suggested. She had always wondered what it was about Tabitha and her kleptomania, her persistent borrowing and using up of other peoples items, never returning them, taking without asking. It had been a problem ever since she'd met the girl.

"I don't know where to get that particular brand," Tabitha shrugged, still raking through the drawer.

Rogue got up and moved over to the dresser, she gently shoved Tabitha out of the way so she could find some makeup for the girl that she wouldn't mind parting with on a permanent basis. _No way is she getting her hands on my Mac eyeshadows, Ah'd never see them again, and they cost an arm and a leg._

"Why not ask him where he got them?"

"And let him _know _I used it?" Tabitha blinked, "sorry...I don't want my sneakers to be in ice."

Rogue gazed down momentarily at Tabitha's feet, "aren't...those Kitty's?" she asked, recognising the rhinestone star that she'd watched Kitty glue onto the left heel one gloomy boring afternoon in February.

"Okay...so Kitty's sneakers," Tabitha shrugged nonchalantly. "We're the _same _size sort of..."

"Sort of?" Rogue raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, so she's a size smaller than me, but these fit okay, just a little tight at the toes...and anyway, she never wears them. Shoes this cute deserve to be worn..."

_Hope she doesn't have athletes foot or anythin', _Rogue thought, realising the girl was _not _wearing socks. Rogue found a couple of cheap eyeshadow palettes and a bottle of foundation that was far too 'tan' for her skintone (it had come as part of a makeup gift the previous Christmas). "Here...you can keep these, Ah never use them."

"Beiges..." Tabitha pouted, accepting the cosmetics all the same. "Totally not my shades..."

"You want them or not?" Rogue folded her arms and raised an eyebrow.

Tabitha sighed, "I suppose they'll do until I can find wherever Jamie hid my stuff..." she examined one palette thoughtfully.

_Or until you can shoplift some at Walmart, _Rogue supposed silently.

"Is it true you brought Gambit with you?" Tabitha asked casually.

Rogue wasn't sure why she felt her cheeks instantly flush. It was a perfectly normal question and yet, it still made her grow hot. Perhaps it was still too close to the things they had done together for his name to even be _mentioned _in casual conversation.

"Yeah," Rogue said quietly.

The blonde swept her hair behind her ear, "I heard rumours he was coming back with you...I didn't really believe it though. Thought it was just...you know...rumours. Then Rahne said to me that she _thought_ she _saw _him in the hall with Scott..."

"Yeah...he's here."

"He's kind of hot," Tabitha remarked casually, "in a sort of, I don't know, douchebag kind of way."

"Ew," Rogue commented immediately; the instinct to form a lie to hide her true feelings for the boy was much stronger than her desire to _agree_ about Remy's fortunate attractiveness.

"Except for the chin pubes. I mean, I like guys with facial hair, but...that thing makes him look like _Shaggy _from Scooby Doo."

Rogue almost laughed, "did Shaggy even _have _a beard? Ah thought he just had bad hair."

"He had a beard in the movie..." Tabitha frowned a little thoughtfully, "he's pretty bad ass, really."

"Shaggy from Scooby Doo is bad ass?" Rogue stifled a laugh against her fist.

"No...Gambit. I was there when he showed up one time to whip the Brotherhood boys into shape. Oh my _god, _he was so...mean. I saw the way he treated Blob and I was just like...yeah, no _way _was I staying so he could lay that kind of bullshit on me. He's kind of got a real mean streak. I mean...he's sort of a bully. Not a name-calling lunch money taking bully, but a _real _one. He and Lance got into fist fights _more _than once 'cause he'd kind of take things _way _too far, and Gambit _always _won. He was even pretty good at tackling down Pietro...and you know how fast he can be. I saw him pin down Pietro once and punch him in the stomach..."

"Why?" Rogue blinked.

"I don't know, Pietro made some comment about how Gambit was backwoods trash from inbred parents or something. I guess Gambit didn't like that."

Rogue winced. She might have not believed these stories before had she not seen how quickly Remy's temper could flare when he was provoked. Still, she didn't want to _confirm _or _agree _with anything that Tabitha was saying. She wasn't sure it was even right to be having the conversation.

"I used to sneak out while Gambit was busy beating on the others. No way was I sticking around to be whipped into shape...he freaked me out _far _too much," Tabitha continued, "you know...I'm surprised the Professor would even _have _him here...he must have heard what a wild card the guy can be. Come to think of it, why would Gambit even want to come here?"

"This is where the action is, Ah suppose," Rogue managed weakly, "besides, most of all the other groups out there have disbanded or gone in different directions. For all Ah know, maybe Gambit got sick of travellin' and wanted to settle somewhere for a while."

"For all you know?" Tabitha asked, "didn't he say?"

Rogue shook her head, "Ah never asked either. Ah mean, it ain't my business what his reasonin' is for bein' here. That's between him and the Professor, right?"

"I guess," Tabitha shrugged, "thanks for the makeup."

Rogue shut the door after Tabitha had left and leaned there for the moment; she felt guilty about having lied about Remy but at the same time, was strangely relieved that Tabitha hadn't even _questioned _why she'd been gone for so long or what her relationship was to Remy. Now if only the rest of the team were going to be as easy to talk with about it...

* * *

><p><strong>End of Part Two<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Just a short update, hoping to have a couple more out before ChristmasNew Year depending on if I can find time, etc. I hope everyone is having an awesome December and is enjoying the story (or what there is of it so far). Thanks to those who took the time to review so far, it's always nice hearing what people think. **

**Anyway, off to have a hot bath and an early night, hope you all have a great week, love you all :)**


	3. Part Three

**BENEATH THE SURFACE**

**Part Three**

* * *

><p>Remy LeBeau showed up <em>five <em>minutes late to dinner on his very first night at the institute. Rogue gazed up from her pasta salad as Remy sauntered into the kitchen, he looked slightly embarrassed which she found to be – for _Remy _anyway – highly irregular.

He took a seat (the only available chair left being between Hank McCoy and Logan), a slightly uneasy laugh escaping his lips. "Sorry I'm late, I got lost," he stated, he shifted his chair slightly away from Logan as best he could; the act seemed slightly immature but no one seemed to really care.

Rogue thought it odd for Remy to get lost, he usually was rather good at navigating his way through even unfamiliar places. He wouldn't even look at her as he glanced quickly along the table. Everything about his body language to the way he eyed up the food on the table showed the kind of unease that was so uncharacteristic of him.

_Don't put too much interest in him, people will figure out what's goin' on between the both of you, _she realised. She pretended to be more interested in her pasta salad instead, "no one give you a tour?" she asked, trying to sound disinterested and almost amused.

"I did," Scott spoke up, "and you had the floor plan print out."

"Yeah, I forgot to take it with me. And all these halls look the same t' me," Remy remarked, sounding slightly miffed. Rogue glanced up quickly and examined his expression, his brow was furrowed a little, his eyes glancing almost nervously around the room as if he were more interested in the cabinets and the walls than the people there.

"Are you joining the X-Men?" asked Bobby Drake, so very straightforwardly and quickly that it seemed to catch everyone by surprise.

The Professor, who was in the middle of sprinkling salt onto his salad, gazed warningly at Bobby, "we don't discuss anything regarding the team at the dinner table."

Bobby rolled his eyes.

"You're looking a little rough there," commented Tabitha, she gazed across the table at Remy and Rogue took a moment to examine the way the blonde's eyes moved up and down from Remy's face to his upper body in one slow deliberate sweep.

"Yeah, you get into a fight?" asked Jamie Madrox, his expression slightly smug as he tore a roll apart.

"Some mutant hatin' jerk caught me in the face with his fist," Remy remarked as he momentarily brushed his fingers thoughtfully against his the bruises on his face before he served himself some of the pasta from the large dish in the middle of the table. "First hit was free. Lets jus' say he didn' get the chance t' throw a second."

"You knock him out?" Bobby asked eagerly, always eager to hear a story of a good fight.

The Professor cleared his throat.

"Perhaps it ain' polite dinner conversation," Remy decided, he reached for the water jug just as Rogue was about to reach for it too and his bare fingers brushed against her gloved ones, he gazed up at her and his cheeks so uncharacteristically turned a little pink; Rogue felt caught between feeling _worried _about this and almost amused that it made him seem strangely boyish for just a moment or so and she was reminded of the times this would happen between her and Scott when she had actually _cared _for the boy. Those accidental touches, the brief tension, usually one sided. Almost _always _one sided.

_He's so off, today, he's not himself, _she realised. She tried not to worry about it, tried to put it down to his being new to the institute, put slightly ill at ease by his new situation.

Rogue pulled the jug quickly from his reach, "ladies first, gumbo," she remarked, hoping he'd understand that she _had _to treat him so coldly, to keep up the act that they were barely even _friends _let alone anything else.

Remy scratched the bridge of his nose absently, eyes elsewhere if he remarked, "whoever said y' was a lady?"

"Ouch!" laughed Bobby, Jamie joining in.

Rogue pretended to be insulted, all the while feeling genuinely relieved he'd at least played along. She passed the jug to him, but this time she noted he made sure their fingers didn't have a chance to remotely brush against each others.

Remy poured himself a glass of water; there was a silence at the table, no one knowing what to say and Remy's presence awkward for the others, especially when so much of the conversation and his being there was left unanswered and clearly not allowed to be broached so soon. She knew it must have been burning in their minds. It'd have been the first thing she'd have wondered herself.

After a moment, Remy decided to cut the tension, "so...anyone here play poker?" he asked casually. Rogue thought it a rather odd question herself.

"Every now and then," Hank supposed, Ororo saying nothing, while Logan simply grunted.

"I know how to play a little," Jubilee spoke up enthusiastically.

"Me too," Bobby agreed.

"I'm awesome," Jamie put in.

Remy took a moment, Rogue thought she spotted something rather intrigued on his expression as he glanced between everyone at the table. "Maybe we catch a game. Y' all play with money?"

Rogue coughed, "don't play for money with him," she warned the younger students, "He _never_ loses."

"You cheat?" asked Rahne.

"I never cheat," Remy replied.

"Just make sure his sleeves are rolled up is _all _I'm saying," Rogue teased.

"Gambling with _real _ is forbidden in the institute, but I believe there is a box of poker chips in the rec room," the Professor admitted after a moment, his expression thoughtful.

"Y' play poker, y' self, Professor?"

"Many moons ago," the Professor confessed.

Remy paused, "I suppose a game like poker be easy f' a telepath. Y' be able t' tell when someone bluffin'...be able t' look int' people's heads and see what their hand be."

"I don't use my powers for poker," the Professor frowned a little, "It would take the enjoyment out of it, do you not think?"

"Depends what type o' poker y' playin'. I suppose if y' playin' strip poker, there'd be plenty o' fun t' be had whether y' cheated or not."

Almost all of the younger students at the table laughed. Logan was _not _amused.

"That's enough, gumbo," warned Logan. Rogue sensed the thin ice he was already treading on with her mentor. He'd been on thin ice the moment he'd taken her from here in the first place, Rogue hoped Remy would know not to push it much further.

_Trust Remy to start pushing it already, _Rogue thought dully.

Remy rolled his eyes, "he always this much of a spoil sport?" he asked.

Jamie smirked, "always."

* * *

><p>Remy LeBeau had noticed at the table one thing that everyone else had failed to notice. He had it in him to be highly observant when he needed to be, and today was no exception. All right, so he had gotten lost in the mansion...his observation skills had failed there a little; Jean-Luc had been in his room, he hadn't wanted to return back there to get the print out. Nonetheless, when it came to reading people, he was on top form tonight. When Remy didn't know people terribly well, and especially when he was put in a <em>group, <em>he liked to try and establish rather quickly what those people were like based on a _very _simple question, an ice breaker he always resorted to that was very easy to disguise as common interest.

_Anyone here play poker?_

It was an odd question to some, very general and not suspicious at all, but it was usually one of the best in his opinion to gauge reactions and _read _people. He was able to tell just from one _glance _after asking that question who didn't even know how to play the game either at _all, _or very poorly.

It was always useful to know who didn't know how to play the game, and who probably _wasn't _good at bluffing and just looking around the table he'd been able to gauge that Jubilee and Bobby did _not _know how to play at all. Despite their admittance they played, Remy had sensed their hesitance, noted the slightly embarrassed and unsure expressions cross their faces the moment the subject had been broached. That two could be busted hastily, they'd never know what hit them. Their poker faces were obvious; _liar _was practically _printed _upon their foreheads.

On the other hand, it was always easy to pick out who were ridiculously _bad _just by their open enthusiasm and false confidence. Jamie, for example, who had admitted to being _awesome _at the game; Remy wondered if for one moment his only _experience _of playing poker might be with _himself._ He'd be easy to con out of a small fortune in piggy bank savings, Remy decided. A couple lucky hands, lull him into a false sense of security by folding a few times, let him think he was on a streak, let him _think _he was good, wait until he was all in and take the lot with one devastating deathblow.

The Professor...a cautious player, thoughtful, reserved. His powers would make him a challenge, Remy wasn't sure he trusted completely the man was true to his word about playing _honestly _or not. The Professor, he could imagine playing at high stakes tables, his calm confidence and high intelligence probably making him a hard opponent to throw. Professor Xavier's poker face was like _stone, _Remy could imagine playing against the man, he'd sit there unreadable like a marble statue that gave nothing away.

Ororo, she had said nothing but it didn't necessarily mean her indifference wasn't necessarily telling; she was indifferent regarding the subject, certainly, but she _knew _the game and there was nothing about her expression that had told him she _didn't _understand the game. She knew how to play it and she probably knew there was a time and a place; she could _win _if she had to, but she had no _interest _in it. Money and challenge...they didn't interest or appeal to her, he could read it on her.

Logan...he had merely grunted. That was rather telling, Remy decided. Yes, Logan knew the game all right...the grunt, as if to say _you don't even know the half of it. _Remy had imagined him almost replying that he'd been playing poker since before nearly of the people at that table were born. He'd already gauged long ago that Logan was a good player, high stakes potential, but never lived up to it simply because he didn't see the requirement to. Logan played _dangerous _games, unpredictable hands with unpredictable people. It wasn't about money with Logan, it was about _dominance. _

_ Jus' like Jean-Luc, _Remy had thought at that moment. Jean-Luc had once been an exceptional player; despite the hatred Remy had felt for the man at times, he'd always loved watching him play because it had been a fascinating thing to watch. The memory suddenly caused Remy to feel a little sick, and become uneasy; he had to quickly push it out of his mind to concentrate on the others and his fly assessment.

Scott Summers...he was likely to be an interesting player. The boy was so stone-faced and stoic; if he could hold that up in a poker game, he'd be a worthwhile opponent, a challenge. He knew how to play all right, but with him it was a time and a place. He'd win for pride perhaps, perhaps to prove a point...not necessarily just for the need of a few dollars.

In milliseconds he'd assessed that all; and then his eyes had fallen on Tabitha Smith. Something had been _different _about her reaction that had left him feeling just slightly ill at ease in a way he couldn't explain.

It was _one _simple thing she had done. She had almost dropped her fork; the way she caught it, it clattering very slightly against her plate. It had been a nervous action he would have not associated with a girl who appeared to be very comfortable in her own skin. He'd only watched her rarely through work for Magneto, but she'd always struck him as confident and not at all nervous nor troubled. His _one _question seemed to throw it all off for just _one _brief second

He couldn't help but wonder what it was about the thought of poker made her so ill at ease and he was determined somehow to find out. The rule of thumb when being in a new place, always assess everyone, find their weaknesses and their strengths. It was what he did.

As the poker subject was dropped, he tried to settle again, watching and listening to the others at the table, trying to ignore the feeling that he had unsettled most by his presence. He had felt Rogue's gaze shifting back and forth from him during the entire dinner; he felt like a bug under a microscope, felt as if he were being studied, observed. He hated that feeling. He was certain that the instructors, that Xavier...they were doing the same...he expected that. But Rogue...it was worse because he couldn't even look _ back _at her properly.

_Y' need t' just get over it. If y' don' look at her soon she's gon' suspect somethin' is wrong. Either that or she's gon' think y' embarrassed about bein' such a ridiculously bad lay._

After dinner, Remy made a point to offer to help with the dishes after learning that it was Tabitha's turn on the chore rota. People seemed to find it rather surprising that he'd offer to lend a hand, but he'd learned a long time ago you caught more flies with sugar than with vinegar. And besides, he wasn't ready to retire into the recreation room with the others and be under more scrutiny just yet.

He had almost expected Logan to disagree with the idea; but the curmudgeonly older man had seemed all too accommodating when it came to the subject, deciding it would be good for him to learn the ropes when it came to the chores. Remy had to wonder if perhaps Logan's encouragement that he participate in chores immediately had more to do with the idea of keeping him far from Rogue.

Hank and the Professor had tried to advise against it due to his hand, but it wasn't too painful, he was capable of drying dishes, as long as he didn't lift anything too heavy. Rogue had said nothing but he was certain she had an opinion on the subject; whether it was positive or negative he couldn't say. In the long run he'd have rather retired to somewhere private to spend some time alone with his wife...but that wasn't possible when he could barely even look at her right now.

There were more dishes than he had imagined there would be, and he almost felt idiotic when he saw the piles of them stacked up on the counter when it came time to dry each one piece by piece – thoroughly – and put it in it's place.

Tabitha said very little at first, humming along to a song by Taylor Swift on the radio, distracted by trying to scrub a rather stubborn food stain from a large pot. He watched her every now and then, wondering what it was that was going through her mind while he stood drying each dish. He'd ask her occasionally where things went but half of the time even she didn't know so much that eventually he had to go through most of the cabinets to determine the spots himself. He wasn't sure he cared in the end if the serving dish was in the wrong cupboard or if the plates were stacked wrong. At least they were dry and out of the way of dust.

"I expected this place t' be way noisier," Remy said after a time, he stood leaning on the counter waiting for her to be done with the pot she'd taken almost fifteen minutes scrubbing. "It's been sort of...quiet, laid back so far."

"It'll be far crazier once the others get back from summer vacation," Tabitha supposed, she swept her bangs away from her forehead with her wrist, huffing at the effort of trying to get the pot clean.

Remy drew a pattern onto the granite counter top with a finger wetted from a puddle near the sink, "guess most of them gone t' visit their folks and all."

Tabitha shrugged, she gave up on the pot, as far as she was concerned, it looked clean enough and Remy wasn't going to disagree or he feared they would be in there all night at this rate.

"How come y' here for summer vacation?" he asked casually, the pattern he drew into the cabinet was half of his signature, but the finger began to dry before he could finish the _'B _in his last name.

"How come you are?" she asked quickly, she threw him an odd look.

_Touchy, _Remy thought, realising he'd hit a nerve. "Nowhere better t' be," he supposed, not sure if it was accurate or not. No, it wasn't that he had nowhere better to be. Before he'd married Rogue, it had always been the plan _because _he had nowhere better to be. Now...it was a case of there was nowhere else he would _rather _be...only because he didn't want to be separated from her.

"There you go," Tabitha responded.

As little as was said in those few moments, Remy was certain he learned more than he had needed to. She had avoided mentioning family entirely, that said she had some kind of problem somewhere. He might have touched upon it if he didn't know how from personal experience how awkward it could be when such a subject was broached. The jerk in him might have pushed for some kind of elaboration months ago, but things had changed.

He'd changed.

"So...what's the deal with you and Rogue, anyway?" Tabitha asked, it coming up rather out of the blue. Change of subject, deliberate to avoid speaking any further about things she'd rather not think of.

"What do you mean the deal?"

"From what I heard, you whisked her off to somewhere or other on some mission," Tabitha shrugged, "I mean, rumours fly around this place. Why Rogue?"

Remy didn't even hesitate. "I needed her powers. What more is there t' say?" he asked.

"What was the mission?"

"I ain' gon' bore you wit' that," Remy replied. It wasn't that he didn't want to bore her, it was that he didn't even want to _think _about any of it ever again. He'd rather move on. "Lets jus' say my hands were tied. Rogue was the best candidate, and the easiest t' manipulate."

_Hope she ain' around t' overhear. Not that it matters, she'd probably be glad I ain' goin' tellin' the girl how we got married. She'd probably _encourage _me t' speak smack about her._

"I was shocked you even came back here. I always heard you weren't much of a team player."

"Who said that?"

_"All _of the Brotherhood boys. Some are still pissed with you."

"Blob, I suppose," Remy snorted.

"Most of them," Tabitha responded, "You got on their bad sides. You know, I'm sort of surprised you and Rogue made it through three weeks without killing each other...she gets ratty with most people after a few days of too much company...and if you're anything like the Brotherhood say you are..." she trailed off thoughtfully.

"What makes y' think it were a bed of roses? Rogue spent most of that three weeks bein' pissed with me in one way or another. Like y' said...I'm good at pissin' people off."

"I never said you were good at it...I just said you pissed the Brotherhood off. But they're so _touchy, _they tend to get pissed off at _everything."_

Remy looked down, "Not that I'm _sidin' _with them or anythin'...but...I suppose when y' come from a bad background...had a bad life...its easy t' be pissed off with the world."

Tabitha's expression was clouded for just a moment. "I suppose."

_Yeah, _Remy thought dully as he watched her. _Definitely family situation._

* * *

><p>Rogue couldn't help but keep staring towards the open doorway looking out into the hallway; she stood, pool cue poised in hand, wondering why it was Remy was taking so long to do those damn dishes with Tabitha.<p>

It had been forty minutes. There hadn't been _that _many dishes, she could have done those dishes alone in about twenty. What was going on? Were they slacking? Standing there talking? Talking about _what?_ Rogue dreaded to think about the things Remy may say in her absence. She couldn't be there to make sure he wouldn't reveal any of their secrets...couldn't be sure he wouldn't blow their cover about the fake marriage.

"Are you going to go or what?" asked Scott irritably.

Rogue glanced towards his grim face, he was standing leaning on his cue, waiting for her to take her turn.

Sighing, she leaned forward and took a shot, her aim was poor thanks to her distraction and she accidentally potted a striped ball – one of _his_ – instead of hers. She groaned.

"Making it easy for me," Scott smirked, "I should have put money on this game."

"Sorry...Ah'm out of practise," Rogue muttered, she stepped back from the table and watched as Scott took his turn, he potted three striped balls in a row, his aim was superb. Her eyes shifted to the doorway again, waiting for Remy to return as Scott lined up his shot at the eight ball.

"So...we haven't had much chance to talk since you got back. What was this whole mission away with Gambit anyway?" Scott asked casually. He took his shot but misjudged and the ball bounced against the wall of the corner pocket and swung left, hit the other corner, bounced back to knock the white ball in.

Rogue retrieved the white ball and she placed it down on the table, sighing, "it's a long story, and Ah don't really want to go into it."

"Why so secretive?" Scott asked curiously.

"It's not a secret, it's just...not very interesting," Rogue replied, "it's complicated and dull...and Ah'm tired of thinkin' about it. Ah just want to get back to normal," she aimed and completely missed her ball, the white slipping into a corner pocket. "Crap..."

"You're _really _off today."

"Be fair mon ami, most teenage girls ain' that confident when it comes t' knowin' how t' handle a stick and balls."

Rogue lifted her gaze from the table to the open door where Remy stood, his eyes were judging the table, she frowned just a little at the comment.

"That's a little sexist," responded Scott; he seemed to be struggling to not be somewhat amused by the comment all the same. Rogue wasn't sure what she found more irritating, that Remy was making fun of her inability to make a decent shot, or that Scott was close to laughing about it.

"Don' get me wrong," Remy stepped into the rec room, he watched as Scott lined up his next shot, "there's always room for improvement."

Scott lightly struck the ball, the eight ball missed and he grunted frustratedly.

"Pair of you are about as useless as a hat on a decapitated body," Remy smirked.

"You think you can do better?" Rogue snorted, she tossed the cue to him angrily, "go on. If anyone knows what to do with a _stick _and a pair of _balls, _it's probably _you," _she muttered, feeling almost guilty for how _bitter _it had come out sounding, even unintentionally.

"Cut it out, you two," warned Scott. "No fighting in the rec room."

"No one here fighting," Remy took Rogue's shot, his aim was perfect, no hesitation at all. "Just playful banter, is all," there was a tiny smirk around his face, but Rogue could _tell _it was forced. Three weeks of seeing him at his worst had _definitely _given her the ability to see when he was faking a smile...when he was _pretending _to be smug.

Despite Remy taking over for Rogue, the game was still lost, as the next shot, Scott finally managed to successfully pocket the eight ball regardless. Rogue stepped aside and Scott and Remy decided to play instead. She watched for a little while, feeling it necessary to observe Remy's behaviour here. As anxious as he had been about coming to the institute, he was at least making the effort to join in, to integrate himself with the others. She wondered if that had been _encouraged _by the Professor.

_Or maybe he's just doin' his thing...pretendin' to fit in, to be someone he's not so he can figure everyone out. He's so good at that, _Rogue reminded herself.

She considered perhaps sitting on the couch, but Jamie and Bobby were playing on the Playstation and she didn't feel like watching them shooting the faces of army men and arguing about who was better at headshots. After spending another moment observing the game between Remy and Scott (listening to their occasional comments and praise for their shots) she decided she'd had enough and left to go upstairs.

In her room she sat alone for a while, listening to her iPod. She briefly considered unpacking the items from her vacation – the suitcase still sat in the corner – but she couldn't bring herself to do so yet.

Instead, she avoided the things she _should _have been doing by sitting at her dresser and sorting through the makeup drawer that Tabitha had been raking through earlier. She was almost _certain _that there were several items missing...she couldn't seem to find her favourite eyeliner (which had cost her thirty dollars), and nor could she find her expensive palette of purple eyeshadows which left her suspecting Tabitha had been through the drawer _long _before this afternoon.

Her eye caught a reflection in the mirror above her dresser, and she let out a little gasp at this unexpected presence; she spun around to see Remy LeBeau standing against her doorframe, hands in the pockets of his jeans; the moment she looked to his face, he shifted his eyes to look around the room.

She dragged the earbuds to her iPod from her ears, "Remy! What the fuck?!" she complained.

"I said hi...Thought y' heard me," he said casually, he pushed himself away from the door and moved over to where the bed was, picking up the last book she'd been reading before she'd left with him three weeks before.

"Ah couldn't hear shit," she turned the iPod off. "Ah had music on..."

"Wondered where y' had disappeared off t'," Remy commented, he flicked through the pages as if he expected to find illustrations. "Missed y', is all."

"You saw me half an hour ago," she pointed out, raising an eyebrow at him. She had to wonder if he _had _seen her...or simply heard her instead. She wasn't sure if he'd actually looked at her all day.

"Half an hour too long," he responded, he stopped on a page, "this one of them vampire novels?" he asked casually.

Rogue could even hear the tone of his voice was different; he was having a hard time talking to her. She hadn't expected this kind of awkwardness from him. She had expected it from _herself, _never him. "Zombies..." she drew her breath.

"Thought y' weren't that into zombies," he said, his voice slightly bored.

"Ah'm not...but Ah wanted to read the book before Ah saw the movie."

"They made a movie out of this?" Remy asked, Rogue was almost certain he was refraining from continuing the sentence with some insult about how stupid the stuff was.

"Yeah. It's out on DVD."

"Maybe we get it, watch it t' gether."

"Really?" she asked feeling slightly surprised, "Ah thought you hate those movies."

"I do...but if y' wan' t' watch it..."

"You don't have to do me any favours, Remy," she said quietly.

He paused, his eyes never leaving the page of the book he'd stopped at, "y' sound like y' in a lil' bit of a mood, Marie..."

Rogue swiftly got up from the stool and shut the door hastily, "don't call me that here," she warned sharply, "And Ah'm not in a mood."

"Could have fooled me. This 'cause of that joke I made t' One-Eye about the stick and balls?" he asked.

"Why did you have to make fun of me in front of him?"

"I wasn't makin' fun, I was jus'...tryin' t' lighten the moment.I thought it'd be funny, is all," Remy supposed. "I thought y' _wanted _t' play mean t' keep up appearances?"

"Don't make comments like that here..." she stood with her hand against the door, "don't call me Marie, don't make fun of me in front of my friends, and _don't _sneak up on me..." she pulled the door open, "and lastly, don't come into my room."

He put the book down, "No one saw me come up, they all downstairs."

"That's not the point..."

He made out almost as if for a moment he was going to leave the room, but he placed his fingers against her gloved hand, and pushed the door shut, holding her fist there on the knob. "Y' nervous t' be alone with me now?"

"No...Ah-" she tried.

"Is this about the yacht?" he asked bluntly.

She pulled her hand out of his awkwardly and moved away; she couldn't believe he'd actually even brought this up. She'd almost expected he'd try to pretend as if nothing had ever happened. It certainly seemed to be his favourite tactic lately...avoidance.

"Oh god," she muttered, "no, it's not about the yacht," she paced nervously.

"Y' didn't even give me a chance t' try and explain about that," he admitted, he stood looking at the door, expression a little thoughtful.

"Didn't Ah? Ah asked and you claimed it was _seasickness."_

"Oh...that?" he scoffed, he examined a scuff on his shoe, "I thought y' were talkin' about how I was a lousy lay even _before _I got sick."

Rogue was a little stumped by the way he had come out with that comment. She hadn't expected it, she'd expected an excuse, never for him to _admit_ that it had been bad. Remy LeBeau didn't admit to being _lame _in bed...that wasn't him.

At least not until _now._

For a moment, she stood, speechless, not sure how to take the confession. She wanted to say something but she wasn't sure any kind of response was appropriate. She didn't want to _lie _and say she'd enjoyed it, but she didn't want to deny that there had been a lot lacking in those moments. She decided staying quiet would be the best course of action.

"I was tryin' t' be careful. 'Cause of y' powers..." he admitted, "I...ain' used t' the types of limitation that brought..." his eyes seemed almost to be glued to the floor, his brow furrowed a little.

Feeling almost guilty, stomach flipping with anxiety, Rogue licked her lips and nervously sighed, "Remy..."

"No...it's okay..." he held up his hands almost as if in defeat, "It was bad. I...ain' used t' bein' a failure in that department, y' know...it ain' easy t' admit. T' be honest...it's...a lil' hard t' look y' in the eye right now...knowin' how much I disappointed y'..."

And there it was, somehow he'd managed to turn everything around, and in one single confession, had suddenly made her feel quite foolish for almost being _mad _at him.

"And I-" Remy began, but the sound of a siren interrupted him; he gazed up, looking a little startled at the excruciating howl it made.

"There's an emergency," Rogue announced loudly as she moved to the bottom of her bed and pulled the hidden drawer out of the bottom of her ottoman to retrieve her uniform.

"We're needed?" he asked loudly, sounding hopeful.

"_We_ are needed," Rogue said, "You're benched, remember? 'Cause of that hand," she pointed out.

"_X-Men, report to the Hangar!_" came Storm's voice over a hidden speaker once the siren had died.

"I could be of some help..." Remy offered.

"The Professor would never allow it," Rogue, holding onto her uniform with one hand, moved to open the door and gestured out, "you better get out of here before someone catches you."

Remy gave a sigh, "Y' at least come t' see me when y' get back? So I know y' okay?"

"Ah've been on hundreds of missions, Remy. Ah'll be fine," she said, smirking just a little at how ridiculous it seemed that he would _worry _about her despite knowing how capable she was in the field.

"Y' at least come see me?" he asked again, he walked outside of the room, he stood in the door, looking hopeful, all the while his eyes _never _leaving the floor.

"Look...if...Ah can get there...then, maybe," Rogue responded, almost certain it would be an impossibility, "now go. Ah don't have time to talk."

As she shut the door, she felt the guilt again. She felt almost as if she'd been almost too desperate to get rid of him, she felt bad that she was actually _looking forward _to getting out into the field and being far from Remy for just a little bit. That for a short time perhaps the worries about him that had been plaguing her might leave her for a bit...there'd be no time for those thoughts out in the field.

_Either that or he's _all _Ah'll think about out there..._

* * *

><p><strong>End of Part Three<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Can anyone believe it's already only three days 'til Christmas already? (Well, here it is, it's 2212/2014, lol). Anyway, I hope you're all having/going to have a nice week (regardless of Christmas or not) and that you all enjoy the story. **

**Thanks to the guest (referred to as 'gg') who pointed out that yet again, ff net somehow managed to reset the story settings (this happened with Trouble in St. Tropez too, after I KNOW I chose Gambit and Rogue, somehow the story showed up without having characters listed as appearing, so annoying, don't know why it keeps doing this). Anyway I've corrected the error, hopefully now it's showing up and people will be getting updates or finding it. Hope to maybe get one more part uploaded before Christmas day (if I find time), but if I don't get the chance to say so before then, Merry Christmas to everyone, thanks for all the wonderful reviews and hope you'll enjoy this part (sure there'll be some thoughts about Tabitha here, lol).**

** Love you all :)**


	4. Part Four

**BENEATH THE SURFACE**

**Part Four**

* * *

><p>Remy couldn't sleep. The small bed was comfortable enough he supposed, but far too little to allow him room to stretch. Every time he shifted upon it, it creaked tellingly, he was afraid to even toss in turn in case whomever was in the neighbouring room might think he was masturbating.<p>

There'd been a time he probably wouldn't have even cared about that but he supposed Rogue would have found it rather displeasing if people were talking about his nightly activities in such a way. He cared more at this point what _Rogue _would think of it than what they would.

There had been a few brief moments he'd almost managed to nod off to sleep, but the feeling of being watched kept rousing him, left him uncomfortable. He wasn't sure if either the room was under _surveillance _as part of the mansion security, or if _Jean-Luc _was lurking nearby, invisible.

His eyes fell upon the clock, it was after midnight, the X-Men weren't even back yet. His heart pounded at the thought. They should have been back by now surely? Hank McCoy was in charge but Remy could find hide nor hair of him anywhere in the halls. Determined to try and get down to the sub-basement to ask if everything was all right – if _Rogue _was all right, Remy located the elevator he'd used earlier when Ororo had brought him up to his room. Unfortunately, trying to access it only taught him that the thing was _heavily _secured. Not only was there a security panel requiring a four digit pass number, but there was also a retinal scanner and thumb-print scanner. When he'd tried to bypass the four digit number, it had rejected his efforts twice, warning that a third failure would result in an alarm. He didn't need to rouse every student in the mansion.

Going back to his room unhappily, he went back to bed but resting was impossible with his thoughts running fast like a train. Where was Rogue? What was she doing? Was she all right? Perhaps she was hurt, laying somewhere desperate for help, perhaps the others had gotten separated from her, and she needed someone.

_Perhaps she needs me._

He'd tried to push the thoughts out of his worried mind as he'd attempted to settle in the unfamiliar room and narrow bed but it wasn't working too well. After another hour of trying to sleep but not quite getting there, he climbed out of the bed and moved to the window to gaze out anxiously. It was a still night although it wasn't completely silent. Someone in a neighbouring room was listening to music, it sounded like the kind of bubble gum pop a ten year old would listen to.

He tried to take his mind away from his troubles by sitting on the floor (there was no chair and he'd rather sit somewhere that didn't creak and whine with every shift) and swiping through his iPhone, sorting through photos he'd taken on their vacation. He'd taken a few photographs without Rogue's permission, ones that she hadn't known about thanks to him silencing the camera clicks. She'd be livid if she knew he had a rather fetching photo of her in that bikini as she sat on the deck of the yacht.

The memory should have been happy, he realised. But it only brought back the reminder of what he'd seen while he had been making love to Rogue.

_Makin' love...is that what it was? _He wondered. Thinking of that term...he'd never been able to _use _it in that way before. Not used it and _meant _it.

He realised how bad it had probably seemed to her...he must have looked so ridiculously inexperienced, and he was thoroughly embarrassed about the entire thing. It was hard to class _that _as sex, it seemed almost...grotesque a word to use for their first time. Making love was far...more accurate, even if it hadn't been the most exciting nor fulfilling experience either had had.

_It still meant somethin' though, _he reminded himself. _Gotta account f' somethin', right?_

He swiped through the photos of her, trying so hard to find good things about the vacation to think of but finding very little. Already he felt as if he'd forgotten most of it. He wished she could be there, to go through the photos with him, so they could reminisce, remind each other of things.

_She probably remembers way more than I do, _he realised regretfully.

There was a low rumble, he recognised the sound of a jet approaching, it was hard to ignore that particular sound. It might not have been quite as loud as the sounds of most modern jets (he had a feeling it had been tweaked to be quieter), but it was certainly hard to ignore the slight vibration that came with it – he recognised it to be the sound of the Blackbird as he'd heard it leaving hours before. Although he gazed out of the window to look to see if the Blackbird was there in the sky, he saw no lights, no sign of the thing. The rumbling got louder, closer, and then died altogether a few moments later. It had landed, it was somewhere...somewhere down below. They were home.

He paced in his room anxiously, ten minutes...twenty minutes. He heard the others coming down the hall; Scott Summers and Logan (Logan's footsteps were ridiculously heavy...how much did that Adamantium laced skeleton of his weigh!?). Remy pressed his ear against the door and listened with focus as he kept his breathing still.

_"All I'm saying," _Scott Summers voice had a whine to it, he was complaining, "_is that she _never _should have been out there with us."_

_ "We needed all the help we could get," _Logan remarked.

"_So you actually disagree?"_

_ "Look, if it were up to me, I wouldn't have had her there. I don't think she's ready enough either, she's not focused enough to be faced with that kind of danger. But like I said, we didn't have enough of a team otherwise, and her powers come in handy."_

_ "She was all over the place tonight," _Scott grumbled, "_she accidentally dropped a bomb near civilians and she's lucky that I managed to blast it out of the way before someone got hurt._"

"_Either way, Professor said she needs more field experience," _Logan commented.

"_Look, I like Tabitha as much as everyone else does in this place, but...she's too distracted, she doesn't treat things with any kind of seriousness, she looks to everything like it's a game..."_

_ "She's sixteen, slim. Most things _are _a game at that age,"_ Logan commented, "_But you're right, she was trouble tonight, I need to spend some one on one time with her."_

Remy frowned a little, _Just another one of your little students, Logan? What y' do t' gether on one on one time I wonder? _He thought darkly.

"_You think I should speak to her?" _Scott asked, his voice serious and tired.

"_No, leave that to me, the last thing she needs is her friend complainin' about her lack of discipline and focus," _Logan stated. "_It'll be better comin' from me, she expects me to be hard on her."_

_ How hard _are _you on her, Logan? _Remy frowned more.

Remy waited, listening as the two men's footsteps descended down the hall, one door closed, and a moment later, another closed. Remy hesitated for a few moments, and opened his door as quietly as he could, gazing out into the dim hallway.

A few moments were spent, silently expecting Rogue to come creeping down the hall as he'd asked her to, but after five minutes (he was able to see by the grandfather clock at the end of the hall) she never showed. Grunting, he decided he would go to see her himself.

"Where you think you're going?"

Remy stopped in his tracks, he'd barely gotten two feet from his room and hadn't even heard Logan's door opening. He sighed and turned to look at the man who stood there wearing nothing but boxer shorts. It was a slightly disturbing image of him, Remy wondered if Rogue had ever seen him like that...wondered if she'd _liked _it.

"I was goin' t' get a drink, it's hot in this place," Remy responded, he didn't miss a beat, he impressed himself with how convincing it almost sounded. Exhaustion had made his voice crack a little, made it sound much more real than it was.

"Make it fast. I'll be timing you. And don't be looking for Rogue," Logan warned, "you go near her door, I'll _know."_

Remy snorted, "why? 'Cause y' gon' be in there yourself?"

"I'm _warning _you-"

"I'm goin' for a drink. Like I said," Remy retorted quietly, and headed for the end of the hall and the stairs without so much as waiting for another comment.

Thinking the better of it, he went straight to the kitchen, almost hoping that Rogue would be down there, perhaps getting a midnight snack after the mission, but no such luck. Instead, he found Tabitha sitting on the kitchen counter nor far from the fridge; she was still in her black uniform, her hair pulled tightly back into a ponytail, making her seem strangely younger than sixteen. She had a large tub of ice cream straddled between her thighs and a spoon in her fist.

He tried to think of something clever to say, and for a moment the words 'if y' want somethin' creamy 'tween y' thighs...' almost spilled from his lips before he saw the unhappy look on her face. In fact, she looked so upset it reminded him strangely of Rogue, the way she'd sit off on her own, that almost hurt expression. He held his tongue, he didn't want to hurt her feelings nor make her mad when she already seemed upset.

"You ever feel like you're not good enough?" asked Tabitha quite suddenly as he was on his way to the fridge.

Remy paused, he wanted to answer yes but it'd be far too telling. He didn't want anyone close to knowing how he felt about most things. Yes, he felt as if he weren't good enough...not good enough for Rogue, for example. He came up with the answer that he felt would _sound _good...sound encouraging. "It's easy t' believe y' ain' good enough if y' listen t' what others think."

Tabitha tilted her head, looking at him.

"No one gon' tell me I ain' good enough f' anythin'. Not without givin' me a chance."

"I'm like...I don't know," Tabitha sighed, "I shouldn't have come back here. It's not working."

"Why?" he asked, he retrieved a bottle of water from the fridge and twisted the cap.

"I fail all the time...at school...in Danger Room sessions. Tonight, during the mission...I screwed up hugely...I mean it worked out, but...I know Scott was _super _pissed at me."

"Scott is up tight. I'm sure y' did fine," Remy lied.

"I almost hurt a bunch of people."

"Could happen t' anyone."

"But it happened to _me. _They expect me to be more capable," complained Tabitha.

Remy had to wonder why she was telling him this; he supposed the next person who walked into that room might have got it. He glanced towards her, her turquoise eyes were on the floor, slightly misty and lost. "I've...seen y' in action, and y' seemed pretty capable t' me."

Tabitha didn't reply, she took a large mouthful of the vanilla ice cream in, she didn't even raise her eyes from him.

Remy put the bottle down after taking a sip, "Maybe this time...y' just...had y' mind elsewhere?" he asked, guessing that had to be the culprit. He'd seen it happen countless times in the field, all it took was one random thought, one thing to throw someone completely off. It was amazing how it could turn a worthy opponent into hopeless in milliseconds.

"Maybe," she supposed, her mouth full of ice cream, her voice slightly slurred with it.

Remy took the spoon from her and took a small spoonful from the tub between her thighs, he put it into his mouth, "It gets hard t' switch off the things that get t' us in the field, but trust me, it _don' _mean that y' ain' good enough. It jus' mean y' _human."_

Tabitha gave a strange snort, she turned to look at him, her blue eyes sad and slightly suspicious, "that's it? _Kindness? _You're supposed to be a hardass...with tough advice."

"Y' want tough advice?" Remy asked.

The blonde gave a vague shrug.

For a moment he stood holding the spoon, thinking about it, "stop feelin' sorry for y' self, stop fillin' up on ice cream, and tell y'self that y' gon' do better next time," he remarked, "work harder, pay more attention and care _less _about what anyone say," Remy dropped the spoon into the tub of ice cream.

Tabitha sighed, "I suppose I better get to bed before the night wardens come out to escort me back to my room."

"They always like that?" Remy asked curiously.

"They keep an ear out...especially Logan. Logan hears _everything," _Tabitha explained, "You set two feet outside of your room at any time of night after bedtime and he's on your ass. I don't know how he ever sleeps."

_Guess that's gonna make it real difficult t' see Rogue tonight then, _Remy realised.

"So...I guess midnight snacks are out of the question," Remy sighed. It wasn't the worry of midnight snacks that bothered him. How was he supposed to continue his relationship with Rogue if they were going to be around people all day and _banned _from going to each other's rooms at night. She'd always told him it'd be like this but he hadn't believed it might be that bad. He thought of how Logan had caught him barely two feet from his door moments before. It didn't seem to be an exaggeration.

"Pretty much, not that it's going to stop me," Tabitha took one last spoonful of ice cream before ditching it on the counter and slipping down, "I better get upstairs before he comes looking. And you better do the same."

"Yeah," Remy said, he watched her go, wondering what it was that had her so bothered. He didn't believe it was simply that she didn't feel good enough to be one of the X-Men. There was something else lurking beneath the surface when it came to that girl.

He gazed upon the counter at the ice cream she'd left, and with a sigh he went to put it away, realising that it might be fitting he clean away some one else's mess for once instead of someone cleaning up his. She'd gotten droplets of ice cream on the countertop from the way she'd tossed the spoon aside, the way it had splattered reminded him of things he hadn't really thought of for a while. Other very unhappy memories. In his mind he could almost hear Jean-Luc telling him to clean it up before leaving him alone in his bedroom. He stood for some moments, slightly mesmerised, memories swirling around in his head, trying to break him, trying to tear down walls he'd spent years carefully building.

Remy finally found the strength to tell himself to stop thinking of these things, and he raised his eyes from the mess and turned to look for a cloth, his eyes catching the reflective triple oven doors on the wall. A dark reflection stood to the back of the kitchen not far from where he'd been sitting at dinner; he hadn't expected it and his breath caught in his throat. It was Jean-Luc there, looking at him, an almost satisfied and smug expression playing about his gaunt and aged face.

He spun around to see if he _was _there, but found someone else to be standing there instead; Logan. Logan was nowhere near as tall nor gaunt as Jean-Luc, they looked nowhere near similar, and Remy had never expected to be so _glad _to see Logan anywhere.

"You get your water?" Logan asked in a grunt

"Yeah..." Remy almost stammered, he had to still himself, try to recompose himself, "I just...need t' clear this away."

"Midnight snacking?" Logan asked.

Remy might have thought it funnier that Logan had said this, considering the conversation that Tabitha and himself had just had. Unfortunately, he wasn't amused right now, he was still too startled by the vision of Jean-Luc. "It was-" Remy thought about explaining it had been Tabitha, but right now the girl could probably do without more criticism judging by what he'd heard in the hall and what she'd told him herself. "Just a little ice cream – I didn' think it'd be a big deal. Is there rules about eatin' at this time of night?"

"You want to eat, you eat durin' normal hours," Logan commented, "c' mon, bed."

Remy closed the ice cream tub and swept a paper towel over the splatters of vanilla ice cream somehow without even directly looking at it; his eyes moved to the oven doors again to check if Jean-Luc might be there in the reflection, but he wasn't. All he felt now was Logan's observing eyes glued to him. He put the ice cream in the freezer and turned to leave the kitchen, Logan switching the light off after him.

"Seem a little nervous, LeBeau," Logan admitted, following him along the hall.

"Y' blame me?" Remy asked, trying to play it off casually, "y' watchin' every move I make. Y' not doin' much t' make this feel like home t' me."

"I'll make my foot feel at home right in your ass if you don't move faster and get upstairs," Logan warned.

"Can't I at least tell my wife goodnight?" Remy asked, it blurted out a little louder than he intended, and he immediately regretted it only because Logan stopped him.

"Look, you've been _warned _about running your mouth about that," the man warned in a quiet hiss.

"All I want is to-"

"Rogue is _sleeping, _she's had a long day. Take a leaf out of her book and go to bed."

"What if I can't sleep?" Remy retorted, folding his arms stubbornly.

"Read a damn book like the rest of us," Logan muttered.

"Yeah...what book you read when y' can't sleep? _Lolita?" _Remy shot.

"Just get upstairs," Logan warned as he went to turn him upstairs and Remy shrugged out of his reach angrily.

"I know the way, I don't need a chaperone," he muttered, and took off up towards the stairs, his pace fast enough to keep at least five feet ahead of the man.

As Remy got to his room, Logan commented, "and stay in there. I don't want to have to tell you again."

Remy went into his room and thought about slamming the door but caught himself realising it'd make him seem like an immature brat; he didn't need his behaviour being questionable and he certainly didn't want to wake anyone up and have them _observing _this behaviour either.

He sat on the bed and tried to get comfortable but couldn't and each time he moved the thing creaked and groaned with ferocity. It was getting rather frustrating. He lay there for what must have been a few hours, twisting and turning. He lay with the light on, eyes open, every now and then glancing from corner to corner expecting Jean-Luc to be there. The not knowing when and where he would appear was driving him crazy, making him cringe, making it impossible to find any comfort in this place that was supposed to be safe.

He felt less safe than he ever had before. He felt threatened and _angry _and upset that the memories that kept popping up left and right as of late were impossible to ignore or push away. He rolled over in the bed, the bed squeaked horrendously, and it annoyed him that Logan could probably hear _every _single move he made on that bed.

Frustrated, he got out of the bed, grasped the edges of the mattress and dragged it off of the frame and dumped it onto the floor in the middle of the room. He sat folded legged on the mattress and picked up his phone, he looked at the time. It was after three in the morning, but it felt more like it should have been five or six. The night was dragging, especially being alone.

He wished he hadn't destroyed Rogue's phone, he could have sent a text message...could have talked with her all night (if she was awake). His own stupidity and anger had put him in this position, he realised. He sat there for some time thinking of things, wondering how things could have worked out differently, how differently he might have done things if it all had to be done over again.

_If I hadn't promised Rogue I would come back here before we even got married...what would have happened? Would she have come with me? Or would she have _forced _me t' come here? _Remy found himself pondering. Something told him that Rogue would have _never _left the X-Men permanently to be with him, he wasn't good enough in that regard. She was too close to the others, couldn't bear the thought of being separated from Logan and Scott, from all her friends...from her life here.

For her, he'd drop everything...even come here...to these _prison _like conditions.

He tried to imagine what Tante Mattie would have said to him had she seen this situation. She'd have probably smacked him hard in the face and told him to grow up and stop being a child, that he was there of his own will, that he had food in his belly and a roof over his head and that was more than people in third world countries had.

He tried to think of it that way but it seemed impossible to appreciate anything with so much bothering him. Horrible things going on in his mind, the _ghost _of Jean-Luc haunting his every move...these things made it impossible to appreciate a nice home, a comfortable room, decent food...people who _gave a shit. _

Trying to soothe himself with thoughts of the _good _memories he had from the last few weeks. It had begun with remembering how Rogue had looked on their wedding day, the flair of that dress, the shimmering stones around the bustier, the way he'd had to laughably cut her out of it. The intriguing moments of sitting at her back in the bathroom, scrubbing that fake tan from her creamy skin and finding himself wishing he could touch her...the frustrating disappointment knowing he never could. And then memories had skipped, the blur of going to a strip club, the horrendous hangover that next morning, the flight to Louisiana, the mundane things, shopping for things, even the grocery shopping, things that had seemed so normal and nice...until he remembered why they had been doing so.

And then there was Jean-Luc's face before his closed eyes, his gaunt tight lipped angry glare when he'd told him about the marriage. And then...the way Jean-Luc had looked almost dead, hanging from the couch...then the way he had been in the parking lot in the middle of a seizure, Rogue trying to desperately stop him from slamming his head against the gravel. The last time Remy had ever seen his adoptive father's face (at least _physically in life)_ had been then, before a couple of nearby ambulance staff had dragged him onto a stretcher and taken him away.

The last way Remy had ever saw him had been him looking half-dead and almost zombie-like there on a stretcher after the seizure had passed. Remy felt almost sick at the thought of it. He couldn't sleep with that image in his head, and so he sat up again, picked up his phone and began trying to distract himself with online shopping.

Every tick of the clock in the hall (which he could still hear from where he sat) was painfully loud, reminding him of every second. Soft chimes counted down the hours as he sat there playing with his iPhone until the battery was at three percent and he was forced to charge it. When six am finally came, he decided that it was reasonably light out enough and an _acceptable _morning hour to be awake and he finally left the room.

He took his time in the shower, took his time shaving, he felt more close to exhaustion now that he was up and moving than he did when he had been lying in bed. He couldn't sleep now though, he was afraid that when he closed his eyes, things would come back again. He didn't need that today.

By the time he'd dressed, it was almost seven and he went downstairs to the kitchen (now having some of the layout of the mansion memorised), glad to find that coffee was brewing, the smell was thick in the air and for the first time the X-Men's mansion seemed almost inviting and homey. Ororo Munro was watering an array of herbs in a planter on the windowsill behind the sink – it impressed Remy that she was using her _powers _to create a small rain cloud above the planter. He'd have never thought that possible in such a confined space.

"Good morning," she said with a warm smile.

"Bon matin," he replied, he tried to hide the fact he almost _yawned _the words. He turned and tried to press the yawn away silently.

"How did you sleep?" Ororo asked, turning her attention back to the plants.

He thought of complaining about how badly he slept because the bed was noisy, thought about complaining because the bed was too narrow but it would do very little good he realised. Besides, he was certain these reasons were _not _altogether responsible for how badly he had slept (or not slept). "It was peaceful," he supposed, trying to lie about it.

"You look a little tired. Dark circles under your eyes," Ororo gestured worriedly, "are you sure you've slept enough?"

"Maybe I didn' sleep much, but that's expected 'cause of the jet lag," Remy shrugged.

"Your bed was comfortable?"

"It was fine. Don' worry though, I've slept in cargo holds on planes, carriages on freight trains, and in engine rooms on ships. Trus' me, I can sleep anywhere," he decided not to elaborate that he'd moved his bed to the floor, and that while he'd been online that morning using his phone, that he'd ordered a new king sized bed from a local furniture retailer. The unfortunate thing was it wasn't until it had been ordered he'd learned that there was no bed in stock and he would need to wait an undetermined time before it would be available for delivery; he'd been too lazy to go chasing up to cancel the order and had simply accepted it as that, especially since the bed had been what he'd been after.

"You'll find it much easier to fall asleep when you begin your training and start getting out into the field," Ororo admitted thoughtfully, "You'll find yourself so tired that you'll take sleep where you can get it when you can."

Remy got himself a cup and moved to the coffee pot which had finally finished brewing. "Is there any trainin' today?" he asked hopefully since she'd brought the subject up.

"Yes," Ororo replied, she finished watering the planter. "But you are suspended from training until Hank deems that hand fit," she gestured with a faint smile.

"It doesn't even hurt," he lied; the hand did hurt, although perhaps not quite as badly as it had the day before. He poured himself a cup of coffee and moved to admire the small herb planter, he picked off a leaf and rubbed it before sniffing it, "Basil..." he decided.

"Yes," she commented, "Oregano, Rosemary, Sage, Chives and Parsley too. I did consider growing mint but I would need to put it in a separate container, it gets quite invasive," she explained.

"Y' a little bit of a green thumb then," he supposed.

"I do a lot of the gardening here."

"I suppose it's easy t' grow things when y' can control the weather," Remy realised, "y' can make the sun shine, make the rain pour...must be easy t' maintain them."

"I try not to control the weather too much when it comes to the plants outside," Ororo admitted, "consistent weather can do more damage to plants than it can be beneficial, and I cannot maintain the weather indefinitely."

"Stands to reason," Remy sipped his coffee. "So what am I meant t' do while everyone else is trainin' today? Sit and vegetate like y' herb garden?"

"You shall be in the control annex observing the team in the Danger Room."

"Joy," he sighed.

"It's important to learn the basics about the Danger Room before you enter. You may even find it rather fascinating to watch. Some of our younger students compare it to watching an action movie in 3D."

Remy smirked, "I've never been one for watchin' movies. Would rather _star _in them."

"Spoken like a true adventurer," she moved to the fridge, "since you are up so early, perhaps you would like to help with breakfast," she offered.

There were _many _things Remy would like to be doing in the morning, but helping make breakfast definitely was _not _one of those things. Still, he supposed in the long run it would only make lifeharder if he didn't _try _to pitch in and show that he was as willing to participate with the _other _aspects of life with the X-Men.

_If y' gon' be here for a while, y' can't just come and go as y' please and pick the things y' gon' do. No one gets t' pick, y' just gotta grin and bear it and do what's asked. The more fuss y' make, the harder it gon' be, _he realised. _Rogue be happier if y' just make the effort...after everythin' I suppose it's only fair._

"Did Rogue ever tell y' I'm a _great _cook?" he asked.

"No, she did not," Ororo raised an eyebrow.

"I can make French toast the _Cajun _way."

"How does it differ from the French way?" she asked curiously.

"Ain't it obvious?" He asked, "A Cajun made it."

As he closed the fridge, he was almost certain he saw the face of his adoptive father reflected in the shining handle, and startled, he almost dropped the eggs.

"Careful," Ororo moved over to catch the other end of the large tray.

"Sorry...hand hurt a little more than I thought it would," he lied, wishing he hadn't had to _acknowledge _that his hand was hurt. Still at least for that moment it was easier than talking about a haunting.

_Keep the ghost t' y' self, _he told himself sternly. _Y' never know what kind of crazy they gon' think y' are if it gets out._

* * *

><p>Rogue awoke that morning to her eight o'clock alarm, finding herself dangling over the end of her bed still in uniform. As she lay there for several moments, trying to wake, memories flitted in and out of the last things that had happened, the mission last night, getting home, managing to get one boot off before deciding she'd rest for just a moment to gain back some energy before attempting to get the rest of her uniform off to change for bed.<p>

She hadn't realised she was so tired that she'd actually fall asleep and sleep solidly for so long. All the same, she wished she hadn't fallen asleep this way, as she was boiling in her uniform, and her hair was soaked with so much sweat that it had gotten rather tangled as she'd moved during the night. She remembered that there was supposed to be a training session at nine. She hastily stripped, feeling a little achy from last night's mission and the poor sleeping position, and she rushed to get in the shower glad that half of the students were still on summer vacation and she didn't have to wait in line.

It was nice having access to all her own clothes again, her hair dryer, her straighteners, her makeup. She rushed getting ready though, tying her hair back in a ponytail for convenience and only putting on a little eyeliner and lipstick, not having too much time to focus on her appearance. It mattered very little, she'd be training in the Danger Room later anyway, she'd have to get into another uniform and get sweaty all over again.

Still...she didn't want anyone seeing her without makeup all the same. Remy had seen it enough recently, she didn't want to subject anyone else to that horror so early in the morning.

By the time she got downstairs, she could smell breakfast and coffee; both were equally inviting as she tiredly sauntered down the hall to the kitchen. The smells in the kitchen were particularly good this morning and as she entered she took a moment to gaze around. It surprised her a little to see Remy standing at the stove, flipping French toast at the griddle. The serving platters on the kitchen table this morning were loaded with freshly made French toast (at least three different types from what she could see) and bacon.

"Who let him near the food?" she asked tiredly, trying to sound as irritable as possible to build the illusion of not caring for him in the slightest.

"Have you tasted this guy's French toast?" asked Tabitha, she was up bright and early for a Saturday, her hair in pigtails, her make up a little thick for this rather early hour of eight. "It's _amaze-balls,"_ the blonde admitted enthusiastically, "especially the cinnamon one."

Scott was sitting at one end of the table, his plate loaded with French toast. "Gotta admit – the guy knows how to cook. This definitely beats the French toast Hank makes."

"Anyone can make French toast," Rogue commented, she moved to the counter to pour herself some coffee.

"Yeah? When's the last time you make French toast?" Remy asked, "or make a meal for anyone?"

"Burn," Bobby Drake chuckled from where he sat near the end of the table.

Rogue shot him a look, "I made you meatloaf once."

"Yeah, once, and it was dry and tasteless."

_Nice,_ thought Rogue. _He's makin' it seem like a rivalry so that we don't even seem to like each other much_.

"Thems fightin' words," Jamie teased, Rogue didn't like the way he made fun of her accent.

"At least _my _food doesn't have twenty five scotch bonnets in it and blow the roof off your mouth," Rogue pointed out to Remy. "That _one _time you cooked for me Ah think you were tryin' to kill me. Ah couldn't even eat it."

Remy stopped at what he was doing, he was standing there at the stove, staring into space for a moment, then quietly, he put down the utensil he was using. "Y' wan' finish up here?" he asked of Ororo, "think I need t' get some air, lil' too hot over this stove."

"Of course," Ororo took over at the stove, as Remy moved for the back door.

Rogue watched, feeling a little confused about his sudden departure. No one seemed too bothered about it, no one knew how to read him, no one knew him well enough to know that he was upset about something.

Then it struck her what she'd said...why he'd been upset.

_Fuck,_ she bit her lip.

_ "_Damn," she sighed, making a show of being rather inconvenienced.

"What?"

"He's bein' stupid. He's so damn _sensitive _about his stupid cooking. Like he's some sort of five star gourmet or something. He's probably going to _sulk _until Ah apologise."

"Seriously?" asked Bobby laughing a little, "that's lame."

"Yeah, that's gay," commented Jamie.

"Jamie," warned Ororo, displeased with the comment.

"Sorry...but it's stupid," Jamie apologised feebly.

"Are you sure he's all right?" Ororo looked at Rogue curiously.

"He's...fine, he just takes things _far _too seriously some times when he puts the effort in to do something," Rogue tried to explain as she headed for the back door. The excuse she realised seemed rather lame but it was much better than trying to put it to anything else or trying to explain the _real reasoning._ "Ah better go dry his tears and tell him his French toast is awesome before he has a fit and threatens to pack up his apron and chefs hat and leave the premises."

"Try not to take too long, you don't have long before your Danger Room session."

Rogue thought it odd to be having a session after breakfast, it was never advisable doing any kind of exercise on a full stomach but then she supposed any kind of mission could crop up at the most unlikely times, even after a huge meal, training was only _preparation _for such times she supposed.

By the time Rogue got out of the back door, Remy had already made it halfway across the rose garden, he was standing examining a white rose, expression almost absent and tired, Rogue watched him for a moment feeling horribly guilty. She wished she'd thought more carefully before opening her mouth.

What was going on in his head right then, as he stared at that rose, lost for a moment, his mind miles away. She told herself to suck it up, apologise and try to fix the damage. "Remy?"

"What?" he asked dully.

"Ah'm sorry."

"For?" he _tried _to look at her as if he didn't understand, it was subtle but she caught it.

She moved over slowly, "Ah...didn't mean to remind you."

"Remind me about what," he muttered, he took a seat at the shaded arbour, pushing his hands in the pockets of his hooded top. She was certain he wasn't _really _asking, it didn't sound as if it were a question.

Rogue came to sit beside him after a moment, deciding that from the arbour _no one _would see them together even if they happened to look out of the kitchen window. She wondered if it was wise to answer. Part of her wanted to talk about this, the other part of her didn't want to hear it, didn't want to _know _things that he might tell her. It was an awkward position to be in.

After a moment, he grunted, "I'm fine. Jus' fucking tired. I didn't fucking sleep, stupid fucking cheap-ass, mother fucking stupid springy-ass, creaky-ass fucking stupid noisy fucking wank bed."

Rogue blinked at the comment, there were far more swear words in it than was the norm for him.

"And you..." he accused after a moment, never looking at her, "y' didn' even _come_ when y' said y' would."

"Ah told you it was gonna be difficult..."

"I know that," he muttered, "But I jus'...it was tough, okay. I felt like I barely saw y' at all yesterday. And...it was my first night...it...it jus' felt weird, bein' alone is all..."

"Oh."

"Is this how it's gon' be?"

Rogue felt he was deliberately trying to change the subject, trying to distract her from what she _really _felt he needed to talk about. That was how it always worked...him turning the tables and she didn't want to go back to arguments she felt they'd already had.

"Remy...maybe it'd help to...talk..." she tentatively placed a hand on his arm and stroked it gently.

"About?"

"About...what happened-"

"Nothin' happened," he interrupted.

"Remy, you stormed out in the middle of makin' breakfast because of a stupid joke. Ah had to _lie _and tell them you were pissed off because Ah insulted your cookin'..."

"You _did _insult my cookin'."

"Ah was just tryin' to keep up the pretence."

"How much y' love me, Rogue?" he asked quite suddenly. "I mean...is this gon' be me pretendin' for a while t' go on with this stupid _we hardly like each other _stupidity just to keep you happy and then you gon' end up dumpin' me and denyin' anythin' ever happened anyway?"

"No, of course not!" she gaped at him.

He turned to look at her, struggling to meet with her eyes, his cheeks flushed a little, "How much y' love me...?"

Rogue swallowed hard, "You _know _how much...you think Ah would have _stayed _for what Ah did if Ah didn't?"

He dropped his eyes to her hand on his arm, "I can understand y' wantin' t' deny we got married, Rogue. 'Cause we're young...y' probably scared what people gon' say...like that we're bein' stupid and immature...that's it's jus' a mistake, teenage romance, gon' burn out, all that jazz..." he sighed, he stood up slowly, shrugging out of her reach, "but what I don' understand is if y' love me _that _much...why y' would wan' t' deny we t' gether at all. Why y' would want me t' pretend like we _hate _each other..."

"Ah told you...Ah don't need the speculation and neither do you..."

"Who _gives _a fuck about the speculation!" he snapped loudly. "Let them fucking speculate!"

"Ssh!" she pleaded of him, "please..."

Remy took one step closer, looking down at her, "how long for? How long are y' askin' me t' _play _this fucked up game."

"Ah don't know...maybe a few months."

"Few months of...what? Pretendin' like we're barely friends...no bein' together...not alone...ever?"

"Not...ever..." she sighed, "Just...really _really _secret...nothin' has to change...Ah swear..."

He looked away from her, his chest seemed to sink as he sighed. Rogue felt incredibly guilty about this, she wasn't sure she could really explain why it had to be this way to him any better than she had, she couldn't stand the thought of anyone knowing about this relationship right now, she couldn't stand the thought of them thinking she was foolish for being sucked into his charm or them wondering what it was _he _saw in her. She couldn't stand the thought of trying to explain it right now when she _barely _felt she understood it herself.

"If y' don' love me, Rogue, I'd rather hear it now and leave before I make an ass of myself tryin' t' fit in here. I'd rather just have it straight."

"Remy, Ah do..."

"But y' want t' _not _be my wife..."

"Remy, it's not about what Ah want, and you know that. It's gonna be forced whether we want it or not."

"Why? Why _should _it be? We're eighteen, we have the legal _right _t' be married, no one can say any different."

"The Professor, he's going to press for this annulment, Ah know what he'll be thinkin'...it's like you said, he'll be thinkin' it's a stupid teenage romance, and it's going to complicate things..."

Remy stared off into the distance for some moment, his expression reflective, "if it came down t' choice, Rogue, what would y' choice be?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, trying to sound innocent and vague; she already understood the question far better than she was letting on.

"If..." he looked at her, seeming to be struggling to keep his eyes on hers, "it weren't up to the Professor, what would your choice be?"

She hated herself for _lying _to him, knowing that the truth would devastate him too much; she'd seen him in a downward spiral in just a few short weeks, she couldn't add to that. What did it matter if she _lied_, what different would it make? Neither of them had any choice in this. "My choice would be that...we'd stay married," she managed, the words left an odd taste of guilt on her tongue.

"And that's your feelin' on the matter?" he asked seriously, his eyes burning right into hers, his expression was the most serious she'd ever seen it.

Rogue gave a firm nod, all the while hating that she had lied. It wasn't that she _didn't _want to be with him. She cared deeply for him, but she didn't want to be tied to him in this absurd fashion when they barely knew the bones of each other. She wanted to start from the beginning, have the _real _experience, the girlfriend experience, being together for a good while, the _surprise _of perhaps an engagement in some years...perhaps a marriage in front of her friends. She wanted the possibilities, the little surprises...not the certainty.

Remy was about to say something, but Rogue's communicator went off, cutting him off before he could even get a single word out.

"_Rogue, could you and Gambit please come to my office."_

Rogue took the communicator from her pocket and spoke into it, "we'll be there in a moment, Professor." She pocketed the communicator and turned to lead the way, "come on," she beckoned.

"Marie..." he began, his voice soft, he held onto the sleeve of her mesh blouse and he pulled her back gently.

"Ah _told _you not to call me that here," she warned.

"We need t' talk," he decided.

"Later...we have to go see the Professor..."

"Now."

"Can't it wait?"

"It's important..."

Rogue stopped and looked at him expectantly, almost wondering if now after everything he might have decided he wanted to open up about things, admit to things, get things off of his chest.

"We go t' the Professor's office...I'm sure there's a good chance he's gon' wan' talk t' us about the annulment..." Remy looked guilty as his eyes moved from her.

"Yeah...Ah figured," she shrugged.

"Thing is...I'm certain he _can't _push f' us t' get an annulment..."

"Just because Ah'm eighteen?" Rogue sighed.

"Not jus' cause y' eighteen, chere. Because...our marriage is legal..."

Rogue groaned, "Remy, we've been over this a _hundred _times...Ah used a fake name...You even had a _fake _marriage license pulled up from nowhere..."

"Law states I married a person, not a name..." Remy seemed to swallow, "and 'cause I was fully aware of y' usin' an alias, it means technically I was a willin' participant."

"Even then-" Rogue snorted, "it's not legal. You even had the _date _faked."

"The _copy _I show Jean-Luc was fake...but the weddin'...it was _real. _I'll admit, I bribed a few officials t' fast track shit with the license so y' didn' even have t' be there, but...everythin' is gon' look square on paper, chere. Far as the law sees it, it's _real._"

"But-"

"And...we _finalised _it."

Rogue tilted her head, staring at him blankly, "What?"

"On the yacht..."

"Remy, what the heck are you talkin' about? Have you been _drinkin' _again?"

"On the _yacht, _Marie...we _consummated _the marriage...as far as the _law _is concerned, our marriage is _legal _and bindin'."

For a moment, it seemed as everything around her went silent, she could barely hear anything after he said the word _consummated._ She felt blank, blood running cold, heart seeming to stop beating. Just like that, suddenly every thought of _fake _marriage came an impossible reality. They'd been legally married and for days now it had been _binding. _How could she have been _legally _married and not realised? How could it have _not _occurred to her?

Swallowing hard, "you...you..."

"I've tried t' tell y'...yesterday before y' left for the mission, I _tried_..."

"You...you tricked me," she felt her vision blurring a little.

"I never tricked y'..." he sighed, his expression guilty, "I...thought at the time y' understood. I _asked _y' if y' was sure..."

"You never _said _at the time that it would finalise our fucking marriage!" Rogue threw her hands out and pushed him roughly.

"Y' asked if nothin' would change and I _told _y' it wouldn't, I thought y' understood the-"

"You _lied _to me!"

"I never lied! I was honest the entire time! It ain' my fault y' didn' know that-"

"Oh my god," Rogue put a hand to her head, she felt dizzy and sick, her heart was suddenly racing with the ramifications. "Ah think Ah'm gonna be sick..."

"Y' said it y' self jus' now, if y' had the _choice _y' would stay married."

_Ah said that, why did Ah say that!? God, he manipulated me, Ah should have expected it from him. "_You weren't _straight _with me!" Rogue accused, "You _knew _Ah didn't understand and you were _countin' _on it. You _wanted _me to not know what it meant...so that you could get your goddamn _way. _Now Ah know what you meant on the yacht when you said it _had _to be right then. Ah thought at the time you were tryin' to say that it would be our _only _chance to be together, ever. Not that it was our _last _chance to finalise the goddamn marriage before anyone could intervene!" she pushed him again, he stepped back a few feet.

"I love you," was all he could say, his expression guilty and sad like a dog who had done wrong and couldn't look the master in the eye.

Rogue almost laughed at how preposterous it was that he seemed to think that was going to fix things. She stood there shaking her head, "now...now we have to go to the Professor's office and _talk _about this goddamn mess!"

"What will y' say?" he asked quietly.

She was shuddering with anger. She wasn't sure what she'd say, "lets go, the Professor is waiting for us."

They walked together, avoiding the back door and entering the mansion through patio doors leading into a formal living room; Rogue didn't want the others to see how angry she was right now and she didn't want to have to elaborate to them why she and Remy were being called in to the Professor's office.

The silence between them was stony and cold as they walked to the office, Rogue so angry she could have hit him more _viciously _than just a push or two. Remy was so sheepish and never even looking in her direction. Suddenly she understood all too _well _why he couldn't look at her, it had nothing to do with his embarrassment over a poor sexual performance, it was that he had _lied _to her. He'd been lying to her for days.

The Professor was sitting at his desk when the two entered the office, his desk as usual was buried beneath a stack of papers, bills that needed sorting, newspapers that had yet to be read, letters that hadn't even been opened yet. He raised his head from something he had been going over.

"I'm sorry to call you both away from breakfast," the Professor admitted, "But I didn't want to wait longer to discuss the situation with you as these things can be rather time sensitive, and so many weeks have already passed."

Rogue eased herself into a seat opposite the Professor's desk, Remy had to stand, there was no second chair. "Is this about the annulment?" she asked, wishing to be straightforward about it as possible. There was no point in pretending to be in the dark about this; she tried to force back her anger and focus on being calm and relaxed, she slouched in the chair a little, although she was certain even that probably seemed forced.

"Yes," the Professor said, "I've spoken with my lawyer, and she has agreed to come tomorrow to speak with you both about the situation and what steps need to be taken. She'll want to be sure that before any further action is taken that you meet the legal requirements."

And there it was, she had to admit to something. She could either lie, and tell the Professor that they met _every _requirement, that their marriage was a fraud and nothing had ever been consummated. Of course, the problem with that was that Remy could rebuke it.

There was always the other option.

Rogue turned to look at Remy, he stood looking thoroughly upset, his eyes clouded. She'd never seen him look so genuinely guilty before. She almost expected smugness, a sense of pride that he'd gotten away with his plan, but instead, he looked the _opposite _of how she'd expect.

"Professor," Rogue swallowed, "Why is it so important we get an annulment? We're eighteen..."

"You rushed off to get married for reasons that are no longer valid or required. You are both so young, and _neither _of you have finished high school," the Professor explained, "marriage is a rather large commitment for someone so young..."

Rogue turned to look at Remy again, his expression was so sullen, he said nothing. He wasn't fighting him on this as she'd expected.

"As selfish as it may sound, I do also worry that perhaps your being married may influence my other students to entertain the notion...especially those who have been together a while."

"Like Jean and Scott you mean," Rogue realised.

Remy gave a soft sigh, he was looking to the floor, Rogue gave him one last glance. In the past three weeks his life had been turned upside down, shaken and torn up all at once. There was nothing stable in his life, nothing at all and he was about to begin an entirely new life she was certain he didn't entirely trust or want.

There was only one thing he seemed to want to cling to, one thing he asked of her, one selfish little demand. They stay married. She couldn't imagine why he would even _want _to be married to her, couldn't find anything in herself that he would love. The thought of devastating him with news that she didn't want to be married had been heartbreaking, and right now, the thought of tearing this away from him, of lying about things to suit herself and the Professor...it tore her heart into pieces for him.

_He's lost his father, his brother, his life in a guild, he's had a drinkin' problem...he's had some _pretty _horrific things happen to him as a kid, _she reminded herself, she bit her lip. _And now...the Professor is askin' him to give up a wife too. _

"The thing is," Rogue sighed, she wrung her hands nervously, "Is...that everythin' as far as we know is legal and bindin' about this marriage."

"I've had my lawyer do some investigation – which has taken _days – _and even she agrees that all of the paper work eerily authentic considering the circumstances. I'm rather impressed by how fantastically well all the i's have been dotted and the t's have been crossed when it comes to this. But still, considering your unique circumstances with your powers-"

It was her chance right then to lie, to say that nothing had happened. She could give in to the Professor, she could lose that battle. Or...she could lose her battle with Remy, who right now perhaps more than ever needed to win at least _one _battle in his life. One personal triumph.

Either way, she had to give in to someone. She wasn't sure if it was instinct or merely infatuation and affection for Remy clouding her judgement. She already new her decision, she just hoped she wasn't about to make a huge mistake.

"Like I said..." Rogue's eyes fell to the floor, her cheeks flushed, "_everythin' _is legal and bindin' about this marriage."

There was a thick silence in the room; Rogue felt Remy's eyes briefly shift to her, he was watching her, perhaps not expecting her to have admitted it. The only sound in the office was the heavy ticking of the clock on the mantle.

"I..." the Professor paused after a moment, trying to come to grips with this information, she could see it made him extremely uncomfortable, "I want to be sure that we are both referring to the same thing..." he tried delicately.

"Ah'm not gonna be graphic," Rogue said quietly, "the marriage was finalised before we came back to Bayville. Everythin' was consentin'...we knew exactly what we were doin'."

"I...see," the Professor paused, "is...this what you want?"

No...it wasn't what she wanted. It was what _Remy _wanted. She herself wanted simplicity, she didn't want a married life in the way Remy seemed to. Right now, she had to be sure she forced those thoughts out of her mind so the Professor couldn't tell she was lying (although she was certain he'd probably sensed it already).

"We can keep this really quiet, Professor, and we agreed we would. No one has to know anythin'. We won't expect any leverage or special treatment or allowances to be made. All we ask is...that this just be dropped and we're let be."

"Have you thought this over?" the Professor queried, "I mean _really _considered this?"

"Yes," Rogue replied, trying to sound confident, "we agreed that if it didn't work out we'd divorce quietly if it comes to that, and no one would ever have to know."

Again, she felt Remy's eyes on her.

"Then, if it is as you say and this...marriage has been consummated then...there is nothing more I can do. I shall call my lawyer once more to go over everything to be _sure _of all these things. I just...hope you both are certain."

Rogue nodded.

"Y' could at least say y' hope we gon' be happy," Remy said quietly, his expression a little dark.

"It goes without saying, Gambit," the Professor said, "I also hope that it goes to say that I expect you will _refrain _from certain _fraternization _under this roof. You are free to publicly _date _and show your feelings for each other – but be discrete about certain _aspects _of your relationship, and please, not under _my _roof."

"Don't worry," Rogue said, "nothin' is gonna happen here..." she stood up, "Is that everything?"

"That will be all," the Professor nodded, "if either of you need to discuss your situations, if you ever need to talk about _anything..._then please do not hesitate to come see me."

"We will," Rogue said. She paused, "Professor..."

"Yes?"

"Can...can you _please _keep this from Logan..."

Rogue felt Remy's eyes on her again, questioning. She tried to shake off the feeling he suspected things again.

"Tell him that...we're gonna stay married but...Ah...don't want him knowin'...about the...you know...the private stuff..."

"I can be discrete, Rogue."

She and Remy left the office together; when they were halfway down the hall, Remy stopped her, taking her by the arm.

"Thanks," he said quietly.

"For what?" she scoffed, looking away from him, "telling the truth? For being _honest?"_

"For not takin' this away from me..." his voice was soft, a little thick.

"Look, I get it, Remy," she sighed, "Ah have to make _some _sacrifices...Ah have for this entire _thing, _and you know that," she pointed out. "But you gotta give a little too," she explained, "Ah need you to keep schtum about everythin' for now. It's all Ah ask. Please."

His expression was clouded with misery still, he sighed, "What y' gon' tell Logan if he asks _why _we stayin' married?"

"Ah'll...tell him that we decided that...we wanted to stay married and it's no one else's business what we do...Now come on...we gotta get breakfast and then get to that Danger Room session."

* * *

><p><strong>End of Part Four<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Let it be noted, I'm not a lawyer, I don't work in any kind of sector related to marriage and neither am I married (if I was I doubt I'd be finding enough time to write this stuff lol). I know the situation above regarding Remy and Rogue's marriage is NOT how it would work in the real world, but this is the world of fiction. If this was real world, Rogue wouldn't have powers, Gambit wouldn't be seeing ghosts and Logan wouldn't be reading Lolita as far as Gambit suspects. Hopefully I'm not going to get flamed for my misunderstanding of how it would work, etc. Hopefully also not going to be chewed out too badly over my writing of Tabitha, I never really spent much time over her character before, so I'm not going to have her character down pat much (or at all), all I can do is try, lol. <strong>

**Anyway as I type this, it's almost 1am on the 24th of December, so yay, I got one more part in before Christmas as promised, and I'll hopefully perhaps manage to get one more in before the end of 2014. **

**Huge thanks to those who have taken the time to review so far. I hope those who are reading are having an awesome December, and I hope you'll all have a great Christmas (or whatever the equivalent of your holiday this time of year may be) and Happy New Year (or as we say here in Scotland, Happy Hogmanay!).**


	5. Part Five

**BENEATH THE SURFACE**

**Part Five**

* * *

><p>Remy LeBeau had very little time for <em>any <em>romance in his life for that first week spent at the Xavier Institute. Every moment spent was learning the _ropes _when it came to life at the institute. If it wasn't learning to use the technology in the war room (always under supervision, and _always_ extensive and tedious), it was learning to run basic programs in the danger room (even more extensive, even more tedious and far more confusing than he was willing to admit). Then there was his _least _favourite thing to do, which was attend basic lessons about field tactics with Logan (which he loathed as he felt _he _could have taught the old jerk a thing or two about tactics). As if his time was _not _full enough, the Professor had insisted on some flying lessons in the Red Eye, which usually took place in the evenings with Scott (who he was surprised grated on him far less than he had assumed, although he was still somewhat wary because he was certain the boy still had a thing for Rogue).

It was by the end of that first week that Remy was starting to suspect that perhaps the Professor and Logan were trying to occupy _all _of his free time so that he couldn't find any time with Rogue. Remy supposed it was punishment for whisking away and marrying her without permission...or perhaps maybe just Logan's determination to stop him from getting any closer to Rogue than he already was.

On his seventh day of being a _trainee _X-Man (could it even be called that?), he was already starting to doubt he even had the energy for _any of this_ and he hadn't even been on a single mission nor set foot in the Danger Room to train yet. For the most part, he tried to soothe himself by promising himself that this _wasn't _some kind of attempt to distance him from his wife, but part of the _conditioning _of being on the team, mentally exhausting him, trying to run him down to see how he'd work under the pressure. So far, they hadn't broken him, although they had run his battery down rather well.

Evenings had begun to become rather frustrating...sitting across the table from Rogue every single night (never next to her), having to look at her (it starting to get much easier to look at her once again as time passed) and knowing he couldn't even be near her made him feel even more lonely despite being in a house constantly full of people. Keeping up this pretence of barely having any interest in even conversing with her. Free time – of which there was _very _little – spent in the recreation room was usually passed playing pool with any of the others who happened to be up for a game at the time, or playing poker (each game proving rather dull as he always tended to win even when he was _trying _not to). Whatever the activity was, one thing was for certain...Rogue _never _participated with him. It almost felt as if they might be strangers.

When Saturday came, Remy was beginning to feel rather irritated by his distance from Rogue; in two days alone they had barely even said two words to each other. She'd promised him nothing would change but he found it impossible to believe when they hadn't spent a single _moment _alone since the day they had told the Professor they had decided to remain married. That Saturday night, after dinner, he retired to the recreation room as he always did, glancing towards Rogue who was playing foosball with Rahne Sinclair and from as far as he could tell, winning at it too.

Sighing inwardly, he slumped himself onto the couch between Tabitha Smith and Jamie Madrox who were playing some kind of game on a console – it seemed to be some multiplayer online nonsense as far as he could tell by the array of gamer tags joined to ridiculous avatars that darted back and forth across the 60 inch LED television.

"Stop it!" Tabitha complained at Jamie, she leaned over Remy to smack the boy.

"I'm not doing anything!" Jamie griped.

Remy inwardly sighed at this behaviour; it grew old, he'd been seeing it all week and it tended to grate on his nerves.

"You keep firing at me!"

"You keep getting in the way!" Jamie smacked her arm away from him, yanking the controller out of her reach as she tried to alter his position.

Remy shrugged down lower into the cushions, feeling slightly miserable. He'd kept up pretences all week, behaved spectacularly well considering he felt less like doing so and he'd even feigned cheer despite being tired. He'd even been civil to Logan. But he wasn't in the mood to keep up appearances. Not tonight. He just didn't have the energy for it.

"You got me killed!" Jamie whined.

"You'll respawn in like ten seconds, stop being such a little biatch," Tabitha grumbled.

Jamie tossed the controller aside, "I'm done. You don't play fair on teams."

"Fine, be a baby," Tabitha rolled her eyes, she tossed her controller aside and watched as the boy stomped off, leaving the room entirely. "Why is it boys are _always _such bad losers?"

Remy shrugged, "No clue."

"You're a boy."

"Quite perceptive of y'," Remy folded his arms over his stomach, gazing at the screen absently. "Is it the lack of tits or the fact I don't got a belly button ring?"

"Shut up," Tabitha rolled her eyes, "But seriously, with the boys being bad losers thing, I mean...is it just the alpha male thing or what?"

"No clue," Remy said again, something in the reflection of the television screen catching his eye.

"You're in a weird mood," Tabitha commented.

It wasn't the first time that week Remy had spied Jean-Luc's shadow hovering behind the couch in the reflection from the television screen. He was almost always compelled to look behind him, but there was never anything there. He dropped his eyes, refusing to acknowledge it further, refusing to allow it to prickle his nerves any more, "Just tired is all."

"How come you're not out on a Saturday night? Lance and Pietro used to go on about how you went out on a _Friday _and didn't come back until _Monday morning, _and you were _still _wearing the same clothes," Tabitha commented.

Remy glanced across the room to Rogue, who must have overheard the comment, she looked at the both of them critically for a moment, this glance cost her on the foosball table, Rahne managed to score while she was distracted.

"I heard that too!" Bobby said, from the corner of the room where he was building a house of cards.

"Shut up, no one asked you," Tabitha muttered.

Remy didn't answer, he picked up the controller Jamie had tossed aside and restarted the game, he had no clue what he was doing but he could work out fairly quickly how to navigate with it, "who's got the energy f' that these days with the amount of shit I got t' do right now."

"First week is _always _the hardest," Tabitha said, "they kind of overwork your brain before they even let you set _foot _in the Danger Room or the field. It's a little cruel, I think."

"It's a trainin' technique," Remy commented, testing out the in-game gun on an opponent, the fire was returned rather quickly and his avatar was killed almost immediately.

"It is?"

"Puttin' someone under extreme mental exhaustion, t' prepare y' for anythin', t' prepare y' t' be able t' work under pressure," he replied, "it's conditionin', pure and simple."

"You sound like _know _all about it," Tabitha pointed out, she tapped the button on his controller so his character could respawn.

"I was trained in similar ways," he replied.

"By _Magneto?" _Tabitha asked curiously.

"Long before Magneto," Remy replied, his mind drifted to being hoisted from his bed at one in the morning by Jean-Luc and a couple of guild members for his extensive training. _Thieves work in the dark, _he remembered his adoptive father growling. That had been when his school work had started failing; showing up to school tired and grouchy, not being able to concentrate, struggling to stay awake, it had never helped. It had been one of the reasons he hadn't fought much on the subject when Jean-Luc had decided to take him out of high school altogether.

"Who trained you?" Tabitha asked.

"I ain' gon' go int' it," Remy replied, "long story, too tired t' even bother," he focused on the game, or at least _tried _to. To the back of the room he could here Rogue and Rahne taunting each other at the foosball table, it occurred to him that _he _should have been playing that game with her, or she should be here playing _this _with him.

Tabitha picked up her controller again, joining the game, "When was the last time you were out?"

"Don't know," Remy supposed. He'd been out on the grounds, certainly, but not further; the institute had practically everything he needed, there was never any reason to go into town, and the only reasons he could think of (alcohol and cigarettes) were banned. A small part of him felt that he needed a real proper _reason _to leave the grounds (while it was allowed), while the larger part of him felt it seemed wrong to try and go anywhere without his _wife _with him.

"You must be getting cabin fever, I don't think you've left the grounds all week," Tabitha commented.

Remy realised she was right, but he didn't like the thought of that being significant. To try and get the subject off of him, he retorted, "how come _you _aren't out on a Saturday, you don' seem like the stay at home type either. More the _party girl_, type, really."

"Yeah, I don't do that so much these days. It's too expensive."

Bobby (who had clearly still been listening in) muttered, "especially when you borrow money and don't pay it back."

"Stop listening in!" Tabitha uttered.

Remy spent a few minutes playing the game, but he was useless at it. Tabitha was rather good, but he understood what Jamie had meant about the 'friendly fire' issue as her avatar kept running in front of his line of fire and getting in the way. He was reminded of Scott's complaints his first night at the mansion. The girl was _definitely _too rash and didn't think ahead.

As he played the game, he thought about Tabitha's words, perhaps she was right. Perhaps he _did _need to get out. Being stuck here for a week without going much further than the gardens had been leaving him feeling confined, and being overwhelmed with information, and rules, and training on machines and tactics and flying lessons was taking it's toll. He couldn't remember an actual moment he'd had any _real_ fun since the day he'd arrived.

"Rogue," he called out to Rogue from where he sat, he didn't even raise his eyes to see her.

"Hmm?" she asked, stopping what she was doing; the sounds at the foosball table ceasing completely at the interruption of the game.

"Tabitha thinks I need t' get out more."

"Yeah, so?" Rogue asked.

"Wan' go see a shitty movie or somethin'? It's only seven, coul' probably catch an eight pm show."

He turned to look at Rogue, he saw the rather angry look cross her face, it was brief, so very subtle, but he knew it very well. He was almost smug at that but he managed to hide it before she caught it.

"Yeah, right, so Ah can pay you in and you can eat all my popcorn?" Rogue rolled her eyes at him.

Remy tried to not be hurt by the rejection, he understood why, but he was growing sick of this game. "I'll pay and everythin'...y' can even have y' own popcorn."

Rogue was about to respond – he was certain with another rejection but before she had the chance, Hank stepped into the rec room, donning his uniform, "Rogue," he said, his voice always quiet, respectful. Remy had to _strain _to overhear what was being said.

"What is it?" Rogue asked, she moved away from the foosball table.

"There's a situation; I'll be going but I may need your assistance."

Rogue looked conflicted; Remy realised perhaps it was the sort of mission that might require her unique powers.

"Let me just get my uniform," Rogue nodded.

"Pack some clothes, the mission is in Germany."

Remy gaped, "Germany?" he asked aloud.

Hank glanced over to him but continued speaking to Rogue, "we'll be meeting with Kurt there."

"How come _Scott _ain't goin'?" Remy asked, noting Scott wasn't even in the room, "shouldn' he be the one goin'?"

"Scott needs to be here to lead the team," Hank answered simply.

"What team?" Remy snorted, "me and Tabitha? And _me _not even allowed t' go on missions or set foot in the Danger room."

"Kitty and Jean will be returning on Monday."

"Y' gon' be gone that long?" Remy straightened up, feeling quite startled. He tried to hide his panic, he'd _never _been away from Rogue for any length of time since they'd married. Now she would be on an entirely different continent. Anxiety surged through him worse than when he'd seen Jean-Luc's ghost lurking about.

"It could be a week," Hank replied, "the mission is a rather complicated one; I won't go over the details of it with you right now, I don't have the time I'm afraid."

"Ah'll go pack," Rogue stated to Hank.

"Meet me in the hangar as soon as you're ready," Hank instructed her, and with that he went off.

Remy watched as Rogue apologised to Rahne for cutting the game short, then dashed off to go pack for the trip. He sat for a moment, feeling torn. He hadn't even noticed Tabitha had already wandered off to look at something that Ray was laughing about on Facebook.

Realising it was unlikely he'd even be missed, he got up and left the room; once he'd gotten out of the rec room, he jogged to his wife's room, finding her packing a small suitcase with her spare uniform and some civilian clothing.

"Y' jus' gon' agree t' go t' Germany?" Remy asked, "Jus' like that?"

"Ah'm needed, Remy," Rogue shrugged, "it's the way it works. When we're needed, we go."

"But...y' jus' gon' go...y' gon' be gone for maybe a week..." he came into the room and shut the door behind himself. "That's...y' know, quite a long time..."

"You'll barely notice Ah'm gone," Rogue raised an eyebrow at him as she packed some socks, "by the way, don't _ever _ask me out on a date in front of people again. People are gonna suspect-"

"Only one assumin' it was gon' be a date was you," he uttered.

"It still was _obvious, _they were _all _lookin'."

"So?"

"So...it's going to make people think there's somethin' goin' on," she grumbled.

"Let them."

Rogue shook her head at him, "Ah don't have time for this right now, Remy, just...don't do it again. Ah don't need this right now."  
>"Fine," he snorted, he took a moment, watching her; she had packing quickly down to a fine art at least, "Why don' I pack some stuff and come with y' t' Germany?" he suggested. "Maybe I coul' help..."<p>

"Remy, you're in the middle of training here...and besides, you're not even fit for the field yet...not with that hand."

"My hand is fine, the bandage isn't even on any more," Remy reminded.

"How are we supposed to _explain _why you're going?" Rogue folded her arms and looked at him pointedly.

"I..." he faltered, "experience in the field?" he tried, "watchin' a mission in progress? I don' know..."

"Yeah, that's not gonna happen," Rogue smiled a little.

"Look, Ah'll be fine," she promised.

"Chere..." he begged, "tell them y' changed y' mind...get Scott t' go in y' stead..."

Rogue gazed up at him, "Remy...Ah'm goin'...there's no negotiation about it."

"Maybe if y' speak t' the Professor..." he tried.

"We agreed...we'd ask for _no _special treatment just because of this," she quietly reminded.

He still found it hard looking her in the face being so close to her and so _alone _with her, but as time was moving on it became a little easier every day; every time he looked at her he was still _reminded _of what he'd seen in her place, that vision had never resurfaced thankfully but it still stuck with him nonetheless. "We barely even see each other as it _is_..."

"Ah told you it would be like that for a while..."

"I didn' think it'd be like _this..." _he sighed, "We've not even had a conversation since Tuesday, and even then it was only about the best _soda _at the dinner table in front of everyone else."

Rogue dropped her eyes almost guiltily.

"It's not even like I can call y' when y' gone...y' haven't even replaced y' phone yet..."

"Ah'll get around to it."

"Y' could have at least got a disposable phone or somethin'," Remy commented grumpily. He wished he'd thought to order her a new phone, but he was certain she would have not accepted it, thinking it would be awkward to explain how she could have afforded it.

"Ah'll figure somethin' out when Ah get back."

"Maybe y' shoul' take my phone," Remy considered, "I coul' always log int' someone's computer here, order a new one...get it next day delivery..."

"Look, Ah probably won't have time for phones..." Rogue folded a t-shirt neatly and put it in the suitcase.

"We've...never been apart that long, Rogue..."

"Ah know, but...it's somethin' we'll need to get used to, it's probably gonna happen a lot."

Remy looked away from her, a shadow in the corner had caught his eye; Jean-Luc was standing there looking smug, Remy almost certain the dead bastard was rather satisfied about the separation. Remy's heart skipped beats, his blood run cold; the vision seemed to be almost _decaying_ a little, the skin much greyer than it had been, the eyes seeming a little swollen, faint veins starting to roadmap those gaunt cheeks.

He felt Rogue take his bare hands, her suede gloves were incredibly soft and warm against his skin.

"Your hands are shakin'..." she realised.

Quickly trying to get a hold of himself, he moved his eyes to her, he tried to find an answer to it, didn't want her to know that he was _afraid_ of what _she _couldn't see. "It's...it's..." he struggled for an answer like a fish flopped around out of water.

"The DT's?" she asked.

He'd heard that expression before; that was what he'd heard it referred to when Jean-Luc had gone into his brief detox when alcohol wasn't readily available for a stretch of time. He was certain to Rogue it would make _far _more sense for him to have this than his seeing a ghost, considering the girl seemed to believe he was an alcoholic. It was either admit the truth, have her know he was most certainly going crazy...or have her believe there was a _logical _explanation to it all.

"I..." he faltered, "It's...yeah...that..." he nodded weakly, "every now and then...comes and goes..."

Rogue rubbed his hands, "it'll pass...Ah've read about it..."

The thought almost worried him, had she been reading up on alcoholism _because _of him? He found himself almost momentarily pondering if trying to worry her about his drinking would guilt her into staying. Would it be in rather bad taste to say he wouldn't have _minded _a drink about now? After seeing Jean-Luc several times a day _long _after he'd passed, a few hard shots wouldn't go amiss. Knowing she'd be away from him, knowing he'd have no way of turning to her if he needed her...that certainly drove him to the thought of it right now.

_If I admit that, would she stay?_

_ "_Don't go..." he pleaded of her, "please..."

"Ah'll be back before you know it..." Rogue promised, she let go of his hands. "Go on...before someone catches you in here..."

Remy hovered at the door, watching her for a moment, worried that if she left him she might not come back at all, not through misfortune but perhaps by _choice. _He drank in the image of her, although it still hurt to look at her. She didn't even offer a hug goodbye and he refrained from asking for one because he was almost afraid she'd reject him. He wasn't sure he could stand any more rejection right now. He shut her door quietly and stood in the hallway for a few moments, she was barely five feet away, a wall between them, he already felt _lost _without her.

"Gambit..."

Remy blinked himself out of his reverie and turned to his left to see Scott coming down the hall. "Yeah?" he asked, he couldn't even hide the disappointment in his voice. Right now he wasn't even sure he cared if Scott picked up on it either.

"I've talked the Professor into letting us play Paintball in the Danger room tonight, and he's perfectly willing to let you join if you're careful about your hand."

He didn't even need to think about the answer, "y' know what...I don' think I'm really up for it right now," Remy commented quietly and made his way towards the stairs, passing by the boy.

"You're kidding..." Scott seemed somewhat confused, "You've been complaining all week about not being allowed in the Danger Room..."

"My hand hurts," Remy commented quietly, he looked down at his hand, he'd taken off the support bandage days ago, it didn't hurt any more, but right now, the excuse was all he had. It was better than admitting he felt sick to the stomach that Rogue was going, that his _heart _hurt far worse than his hand ever could. "Have fun."

* * *

><p>Rogue felt guilty; she felt guilty and she <em>hated <em>that she was letting Remy make her feel that way. She had never expected to feel _bad _because she had to leave him behind. She had always assumed that when the time came and they couldn't go on the _same _mission that he would be accepting of it. She had expected him to understand.

As she stood in the elevator as it slowly travelled down directly to the hangar, she couldn't think of anything but the way Remy's hands had shook, or that rather lost expression on his face. The last time he'd looked like that had been the night on the yacht...and then he'd gotten so drunk that he could have potentially _died _from alcohol poisoning. The thought worried her.

Holding her bag over one shoulder, she left the elevator as the doors slid open, and she strode to the red-eye. It seemed strange it had only been a week ago she'd been _arriving _in it after so long, now she'd be leaving again.

Logan and Hank were standing by the plane discussing the mission, expressions serious. Rogue approached, dropping the bag from her shoulder.

"Got everythin' you need?" Logan asked, taking the bag from her and loading it into the plane for her.

"Ah think so," Rogue drew her breath, "Are you comin' too?"

"You, Hank and Kurt are more than capable of handling this as a trio," Logan assured. "I'll be here with the rest of the skeleton crew."

Rogue perhaps thought it might be for the best if Logan _didn't _come. It would definitely make it easier to avoid more of Remy's accusations. _If he had been comin'...Remy would flip...spend all his time obsessing about what might be happenin'. He's so paranoid..._

_ "_Logan," Rogue spoke up uneasily, "can...Ah speak to you about somethin'?"

Logan gave a shrug, "whatever you need..."

"Privately..." she said quietly, casing an apologetic look to Hank.

Hank gave a toothy grin, "Let me go check my email just _one _more time before I leave," he said kindly, and took off in the direction of the nearest computer which was far out of earshot at the far end of the hangar.

Logan leaned against the plane, "what's wrong?" he asked casually, his expression was slightly distant.

"Ah...think Remy is upset."

"Isn't he always these days?"

"When he found out Ah was goin', he got a little weird on me, Ah don't know. It reminded me of..." she paused, trying to refrain from telling Logan about the day on the yacht, the less he knew about how her marriage had been consummated, and Remy's behaviour _afterwards_, the better. "It reminded me of the last day in St. Tropez..."

"What you want me to do?" Logan sighed.

"Just...please keep an eye out...just in case he falls off the wagon or somethin'..." she requested. "Or...throws himself off of it completely."

Logan rubbed his bare finger against a smudge of dirt on the plane, expression a little dull, "he'd have to be stupid to take that risk."

"Not stupid...maybe desperate."

After a moment, Logan shifted his eyes to her curiously, "does he know you've been deliberately distancing yourself from him?"

She blinked, "excuse me?"

"That's what you've been doing, isn't it? Distancing yourself...volunteering for chores, for extra training...trying to find ways to prevent him from finding time alone with you..."

Rogue shook her head at Logan, "You _said _it would be good if Ah distanced myself from him_."_

_ "_I know that."

"Ah'm just...tryin' to do what y'all asked of me. You said distance yourself, that it'd be good for him, that it would _help _him..."

"I said distance yourself, I didn't say _drop _him altogether," Logan replied.

Rogue sighed, she folded her arms, "Ah don't know why you're bringin' this up."

"I just want to be _sure _that you're happy and that you haven't changed your mind about him and that you just don't know how to admit it. If you need to say that you _don't _want to be in this marriage, Rogue, then say it."

"Ah haven't changed my mind."

No, she supposed it had nothing to do with the changing of minds. It was more that she just needed some time away from the drama, from the stress of it all. She'd spent weeks essentially _babysitting _him, dealing with his anger, his outbursts, his bouts of moodiness and then his drinking. She didn't think it was unreasonable to want a break from it all.

She just didn't want to admit that she needed that break. She'd much rather have her fake husband - no...fake was no longer correct, was it? Her _lawful _husband - believe she was swamped and struggling to find time for him. It was better than hurting his feelings, he was far too sensitive right now to deal with that.

Over a month ago she'd have laughed if anyone would have told her that Remy LeBeau was capable of being _romantic, _or _sensitive. _She wasn't sure anyone would ever believe her if she happened to tell them what he was really like. He showed a rather different face to the others, stoic and reserved at times, smug and cynical the rest of the time. He rarely ever showed his true emotions, and it was just as well, too many here would try to get beneath his skin and pinpoint the underlying problem with the intention to help...Remy didn't need more people prying into his personal life.

"It's your life," Logan grumbled, "at least that's what Charles says. Your life, you have the right to decide if this is what you want to do and how you want to live. But it doesn't mean you don't have the right to change your mind, to ask for help if you figure out later it was a mistake."

"Ah know that," she nodded, trying to seem sure.

Hank came approaching, "Are we about ready? We have a long flight ahead of us..."

"Ah...forgot somethin'," Rogue sighed softly, "Ah'll...be right back...five more minutes..."

"Hurry, please," Hank glanced at his watch. "We have a brief window to pass through airspace undetected and I don't want to miss it."

"Don't worry, Ah'll be fast..."

* * *

><p>Remy retired to his room early; he'd thought momentarily about going to watch the Danger Room paintball session from the control annex but he just wasn't in the mood. He'd almost considered going back to the rec room but he hated to admit he didn't like being in there alone. He didn't like being <em>anywhere <em>in this mansion alone, really, as Jean-Luc always seemed to be lurking about somewhere, but other than his bedroom, Jean-Luc's presence usually seemed worse in the rec room...perhaps it was due to the room being _larger, _feeling emptier. He wasn't particularly sure what it was that made him feel that way, perhaps it was that there was so many places for the bastard to be lurking in.

He switched on his bedside lamp and glanced around the room; the dim lightbulb (which was one of those ridiculous energy saving bulbs he detested) didn't light much up at first, and so many shadows were cast across the room. Jean-Luc could be anywhere.

He sat down folded legged upon the mattress on the floor; his new bed was still to arrive, and he had heard not a thing about it. He'd advised the Professor about the new bed and had the iron bed frame removed and placed back into the attic where it had come from. Now, the mattress sat in the very middle of the room, futon like, made up neatly. His room still seemed impersonal and bare; he hadn't been out to look for any decorative touches to clutter it with...he'd never even done that with his _old _room back in Louisiana.

He picked up his iPhone from where he'd left it charging and began going through the photos again, his photos of Rogue, hoping it might take the bite out of his loneliness and unease.

The door opened, he'd expected it to be one of the others trying to beckon him to come to the Danger Room for paintball despite his excuses. When he saw Rogue standing there, it caught him by surprise.

"Y' forget somethin'?" he asked, feeling tired and dull.

She looked over her shoulder to check no one was in the hall before entering the room and shutting the door behind herself.

"Ah forgot to say goodbye."

He raised an eyebrow at her, for a moment he had _hoped _she'd reveal she'd changed her mind, but there was no such luck here today.

"And..." she squatted down beside him, looking at him, "Ah just wanted to _assure_ you...that _nothin' _is changin'...Ah'm only goin' because Ah have to..."

"Okay..." He agreed, lowering his eyes sheepishly from her.

"Every moment away...Ah won't be able to think about _anythin'..._or _anyone _other than you, sugar."

He felt it to be true, but he wondered if it were for the right or wrong reasons all the same.

She climbed behind him on the mattress, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Her embrace was warm, and for just a moment, even the presence of Jean-Luc's face looking through the window at them both couldn't affect him. Nothing could have made him feel safer at that moment. He gripped her arms, closing his eyes and focusing on _nothing _but that feeling, trying to hold onto it so it'd be burned into him for the week she'd be away.

"Ah..." she hesitated, "Ah...love you, Remy LeBeau..." she whispered near his ear, her voice nervous and unsure.

She'd avoided that word for a while, never seeming to be able to say it back in quite the same way he had. And so when she said it, even as hesitantly as she had, he felt relieved and assured. It had been hard for her to say, she _struggled _to say it and he almost understood why, given her unique powers and experience of being so distanced from others in the past.

"I love y', more," he said quietly. "Y' better go...'fore this gets any harder."

"Ah'll call," she said, "when Ah find time..."

The promise of a call alone lifted his spirits just a little, left him a little relieved. As she let go of him, the room almost felt _colder, _and as she left the room hastily, never giving him a second glance, he almost felt swallowed up by the loneliness again; it seemed even more powerful now after her telling him she loved him...made it harder to face, made him miss her more.

This would be the longest week of his life.

* * *

><p><strong>End of Part Five<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Sorry it took so long to get this part out, I've been feeling quite under the weather this last few weeks (back has been particularly horrendous and bouts of depression and stress have made it quite hard to get focused on a lot of things). Thanks to those few who have taken the time to give a review or two, it means a lot to me, I'm sure a lot of people aren't as really gripped by this one as the previous two (I know Trouble in St. Tropez wasn't really as good as everyone as hoped it was going to be and I'm not too certain this one will be either) but it's nice to know some people are still reading and liking what's out so far (and basically isn't the fanfic equivalent of me sitting talking to myself). At the moment I'm about at part twenty (yes, it's going to be a far longer story than the other two) writing wise, so there is going to definitely be a lot more time to come.<strong>

**Anyway, finally got the next part up and now I'm off to play Assassin's Creed Unity. Happy New Year to everyone, and I hope you all have a great 2015. **


	6. Part Six

**BENEATH THE SURFACE**

**Part Six**

* * *

><p><strong>** Just a quick note to say, expect a few references to child abuse here (not much of a surprise, as good bulk of storyline based around it, but anyway). Also want to state don't get caught up in the paragraphs about the mission, it's just filler, it's not important too relevant to the story. I'm not great at writing mission type stories so that won't be going far, lol. I just needed Rogue and Gambit to be separated for a bit lol. Anyway, hope you all enjoy!<strong>

* * *

><p>Three days.<p>

Three days had passed – four he supposed if he counted the Saturday night - and Rogue had not called. Every waking hour of those three days he had sat wondering _when _that phone call was going to come. Every other hour, he asked himself _why _hadn't she called yet?

There should have been plenty to distract himself with; Professor Xavier had given him permission to go into the Danger Room to start training with the _New Mutants_ – as _long _as he was careful with his hand. Training in the Danger Room with the _X-Babies _didn't really cut it as far as he was concerned and it certainly wasn't enough to distract him. He disliked the idea of having to train with – as far as he was concerned – _novices. _

It wasn't so much that Remy felt it _beneath him _to be included with the New Mutants rather than the X-Men (although it was irritating as they were younger and much more immature). What bothered him was that the training level for them was so low in comparison to the X-Men's training level that he was sure he would never learn _anything _useful nor actually catch up to them. The past few training sessions he had attended had been rather easy and unsatisfying; he'd brought it up with the Professor after the _first _session but Professor Xavier had thought it a wise idea to put him in with the New Mutants to give him time to _adjust _to the pace of training while learning to work as a team in a slightly _less _stressful environment than it would be to be put right into the X-Men.

Remy had a different feeling on the matter. He couldn't help but wonder if the Professor was trying to prevent him from _joining _the X-Men because there was a chance of _liability _about him. Logan and Rogue had said a lot about him behind his back, that was certainly the case, and in Remy's opinion it had clearly swayed the Professor's decision to keep him in the 'kiddie pool' so he didn't get in the way of the X-Men's Olympic swim.

It was frustrating, but he wasn't in the mood to argue, he had neither the energy nor the head for it. He supposed he could always walk out if he couldn't get his own way or be given a fair chance, but walking away meant walking away from Rogue, and that wasn't going to happen. They _knew _that. They were _counting _on that.

_They're countin' on my feelin's f' Rogue t' make sure I do what they want, _Remy had thought dully.

When Monday had came, Kitty Pryde and Jean Grey arrived back from their Summer vacations, coming back a few weeks before School was due to begin so that they could train a little and settle in before the next semester started. Kitty Pryde would be starting her senior year, and Jean Grey would be attending Bayville Community college (along with Scott) although Remy had no interest in asking what her chosen subjects were.

Jean's announcement to him that she would be attending Bayville Community College had thrown him a little. Remy knew very little about academics, having left school some years before, but what he knew of Jean Grey he understood one thing; The girl was _Ivy League _material, and going to a college in Bayville seemed rather disappointing and beneath her. His spying the year before on the X-Men, he had learned all kinds of _useful _information, and Jean Grey was _definitely _the type of girl who should have been going to prestigious college with her high grade point average, her various credits and experience with organising events and charities. On paper, she looked exceptional, and he _himself _almost felt slightly disappointed she was throwing away the chance to go to somewhere like Harvard or Yale to go to Bayville Community College.

One of the younger students had asked Jean about it casually but she played it off with excuses about excellent professors and her commitment to the X-Men. While she'd been speaking, the entire time she'd been glancing towards Scott at the opposite side of the lunch table; he'd known right then exactly why she'd stayed.

He'd thought the notion of it foolish – forsaking a bright future for the sake of love...

And then he had realised it wasn't all that different from his moving all the way to Bayville to be with Rogue. He supposed the difference was he hadn't exactly forsaken a bright future to be with her though, he hadn't given up much of _anything, _as he hadn't had much of _anything _to give up. Rogue was the only thing he _had _that meant anything any more and right now he couldn't even _talk _to her.

With Rogue gone, Remy couldn't even find the motivation to _try _and interact with others and would find alternative things to do while the others retired to the recreation room after dinner. He'd started painting his room on Sunday night and been using it as an excuse to be on his own. He'd been offered help but didn't want the inconvenience of having to make conversation (which he'd surely have to if someone was to come and help out). The colour he'd chosen to pain the room was scarlet red; he'd thought at first it might have looked good, might have made it look warm and inviting but by the time he'd finished that Tuesday afternoon, he realised all it did was make the room look angry...made the walls seem as if they might be bleeding.

_Should have stuck with a nice blue colour, somethin' calm and cool, _Remy thought dully as he wiped his paint splattered hands on an old rag, he gazed upon his work. He didn't like it, but he'd known he hadn't liked until the moment he'd touched the roller to the wall. By then, it had been far too late to go back...he'd marked the wall in far too obvious a place to hide. Besides...he had made a decision, he had to stick by it.

If he could live with the X-Men, then he could _certainly _live with red walls...

_"Red...?"_

Remy turned to look at the open doorway of his room, Tabitha stood with her hip against the doorframe, arm behind her head as she let her eyes travel across the room. Her blonde hair was in loose curls, framing her feminine (although thickly) painted face.

"Nice colour, no?" Remy asked, wiping his hands. He'd rather pretend to like the colour than admit what a disastrous mistake it had been to pick that colour. He supposed it was always a mistake ordering paint online, he'd had no clue how that colour would look on this wall.

"Looks a little dark," Tabitha stepped in, "totally makes the room look smaller..."

Remy supposed he agreed, he let his eyes travel from wall to wall, hiding his dissatisfaction.

"Why red? Match your pretty eyes?" Tabitha teased.

"Powerful colour," Remy replied, "Colour of energy and passion."

"And blood..." Tabitha touched the wall, which was still wet, her finger left a smudge on the wall, she made a face.

"I just finished that," he muttered, picking up the roller to touch up where she'd left a long finger mark.

"I thought that part was dry," she commented, she wiped her paint-smeared finger upon his paint-splattered shirt to be rid of it.

"Why is it that whenever a wall is painted, it's like...some kind o' _magnet _drawin' people t' touch it...?" he wondered uneasily. "Mystery of the universe I suppose, jus' like there's no explanation for why there's always plenty of toilet paper in the bathroom up until the minute y' already on the throne takin' a dump...or how it's always when y' want t' sleep the most that y' just _can't _and when y' want t' stay awake all y' feel like y' wan' do is sleep," he supposed.

Tabitha gave a slight laugh, "yeah...I suppose."

He put the roller back down on the tray. "What y' in here for anyway? Ain' there rules about girls in the rooms of boys 'round these parts."

"Not with the door open...and not during the day," Tabitha said.

"So...?"

"I need to ask a favour," Tabitha admitted, "I need a ride into town."

"So...?" he asked again.

"I got my license suspended."

"For...?" Remy raised an eyebrow.

"For doing eighty down a one way street in a twenty mile per hour zone..." she flashed a grin.

"Much as I'd _like _t' help y' out," Remy rolled his neck, it hurting from craning his neck painting all afternoon, "I don' got a car."

"What about that green piece of crap under a dust sheet in the garage?" she asked pointedly.

"That car is a _classic," _he frowned. "It's a 1956 Ford Zodiac I'll have y' know."

"It's the colour of puke."

"It's _sage,_" he muttered.

"It's a _car _isn't it?"

"I ain' had the plates changed," Remy replied.

"So?"

"Cops in this town like t' pick on y' f' that. I don' need t' be pulled over f' havin' the wrong plates."

"Oh come _on, _law breaker Gambit is scared of _license plate laws_?" Tabitha laughed.

"I'm tryin' t' start fresh here, tryin' t' go _straight._"

"Yeah, I'll believe that when I see it," Tabitha smirked, "Anyway, you can totally take the X-Van. It's cool."

"Yeah, I don't have permission for that," Remy tossed her a look.

Tabitha let out a tinkling laugh, "permission? The professional _thief _who did all that illegal work for Magneto is apprehensive about _borrowing _a van? Wow, you are _so _not who I thought you were. What happened to you?"

"Nothin' _happened, _I'm jus' sick of that life. I'm not a kid any more, I need t' grow up and stop the criminal activities," he answered. Regretfully, even without meaning to, he thought _Before I end up like Jean-Luc._

_ "_Okay fine, but can't you just _do _this?"

"Why not just the bus int' town, it's like, what, five minutes away to the nearest stop?"

"Ten," Tabitha remarked, "it's raining out there, I'm _not _walking ten minutes just to stand at a bus stop and wait another thirty for a bus. Come on. There isn't even a _shelter _at that stop, I'd get soaked."

"Get someone else."

"There _is _no one else. Scott took Jean out to see a matinee, Kitty went to the library, every one is just totally busy. The Professor is out in some business meeting, and Logan is downstairs in the war room...he doesn't want to be disturbed. I don't even _know _where Ororo is right now."

_Probably bangin' Logan in the war room, _Remy thought darkly.

"Look, I'm kind of busy..."

Tabitha looked at him, her expression changed, "Please...?"

Remy stood for a moment, trying to read her; he was surprised that with the kind of person she was that she hadn't just disobeyed the rules and went out without a license anyway. If she was careful enough, no one would probably even find out. There was something else he couldn't put his finger on, and then he realised that just like him, _she _had not left the grounds in the past week and a half either. It hadn't struck him until that moment. It was odd...for a girl who in his _spying _experience had _always _been a social butterfly, flitting here there and everywhere, going out to parties, to the mall, anywhere there was life. Once, she'd been the kind of girl who was _never _home, and now she always _was._

She hadn't left the institute since _he _had been there.

It was slightly intriguing.

"Just a ride, that's it...?" Remy queried, wondering if perhaps it might do him good to get away from the grounds for a little while too. He realised it had been a week and a half here and he hadn't left the grounds at all either.

"Just to the store...just to pick up some supplies," she promised.

"Fine," he muttered, "but if I get in trouble for borrowin' the van, you're takin' the rap."

"Of course," she nodded.

Remy had to shower and change before he could even think about getting into the X-Men's van, which had just been detailed. Tabitha had waited down in the garage for him; when he got down there, he had found it odd that she'd _changed _her clothes, her hair tied in a ponytail, a baseball cap shading her face. She wore a slightly baggy hooded shirt that Remy was _sure _belonged to Scott, and her jeans were loose fitting and seemed far too long for her, they seemed to belong to a boy by the looks of the cut.

_She's dressed unlike herself...and she ain' wearin' makeup either,_ Remy realised as he approached, "y' got the keys?"

Tabitha tossed them towards him, "here."

As they drove, Tabitha frustratingly kept changing radio stations thirty seconds into every song, regardless whether she liked the songs or not, singing bits and pieces of things.

"What is it y' goin' for?" he asked when they were coming into town, he wasn't even sure where they were heading for.

"I need some stuff from the store."

"There's more than one store in Bayville...y' gon' have t' be a bit more specific or I won' know where t' go to," Remy rolled his eyes at her, she was being incredibly vague.

Tabitha shrugged down into her seat, she was looking in the wing mirror curiously, Remy wondered if she was admiring herself. "Wherever sells Tampons."

_Fantastic, _thought Remy. He could have done without that elaboration on what she needed. Couldn't she have just admitted she needed a drug store, or somewhere that sold hygiene products?

"Fine, so...the Baymart then," Remy took the left turn heading towards the small 'Walmart' wannabe store called Baymart. He almost expected Tabitha to object (as this place was rather dingy and depressing to shop in) but she said nothing.

He parked the van near the front entrance, watching the wipers swish the heavy rain from the windows, "here y' go."

Tabitha sat there for a moment in the van, not moving, she seemed distracted, concerned.

"Hey..." he nudged her.

She turned and looked at him, "can you come in with me?"

"Pardon?"

"C' mon..." she urged, reaching for her door.

"What y' need me for? T' carry the shoppin' basket? All y' goin' in for is some tampax...y' don't need me for that."

"Look, just...come in, okay?"

"Why?"

"Because I'm _asking..."_

Remy observed her for a moment. He couldn't quite imagine why she was _nervous _about going into the store on her own, why she had waited this long to go anywhere. But he was more intrigued. Rogue would have probably told him it was none of his business and to let it go...but Rogue wasn't there.

Unbuckling his seatbelt, he climbed out, he took his sunglasses out and put them on, Tabitha giving him a strange look as she followed.

"Sunglasses...really?" Tabitha asked seeming slightly confused.

"Wit' these eyes, really."

"It's raining...there's no sun for miles. That's going to look _more _suspicious than a guy with black and red eyes, Gambit."

"Look, it make people less nervous t' see my eyes. Y' wouldn' understand, y' one of the _lucky _ones who got t' look completely _normal_."

"I _am _normal," Tabitha frowned a little.

"So am I," he pointed out, "But I don' _look _it, that make people nervous. Y' know how they look at Mutants in this town."

In the store, Remy followed her from aisle to aisle as she picked up various things. At first he'd had to pretend to _politely _look the other way as she stood forever picking out her tampons, and then, it was carrying the basket as she loaded it with chocolate, ice cream, potato chips and other such items. Remy gazed into the basket, wondering if he should point out that if she was going to eat all of these items she was likely to put on about twenty pounds. In fact, as he thought about it, the girl _had _seemed to have gotten a little softer around the edges as of late.

_Never mention a woman's weight, touchy subject, _he reminded himself. He'd learned that one when he was fourteen and had commented on a girl at school's _pudginess. _The girl had kicked him between the legs for the comment; he'd never made that mistake again.

"Tabitha..."

Remy turned to see the man in his forties, dirty blonde hair slicked back, looking greasy and unwashed. The guy seemed vaguely familiar to him in ways he couldn't explain; maybe it was that he and Tabitha's eyes were the same shape, except that Tabitha's eyes were brighter, more alive, and this guy...had the yellowing eyes of an alcoholic.

Tabitha dropped the item she'd been holding – a two litre bottle of Pepsi. It bounced and rolled towards the feet of the man whose name she gasped under her breath, "dad..."

"You're a hard girl to get a hold of these days."

Tabitha stepped back right into Remy, nearly knocking him backwards, he almost dropped the basket. "You're not supposed to be here..."

"I just want to talk."

"No..."

"Come on, Tabby-cat, don't be like that..." he slurred.

"There's a _restraining _order," Tabitha swallowed hard, her voice was trembling.

"Look—just _five _minutes."

Tabitha shifted behind Remy, he turned to look at her and saw the look in her eyes, he _recognised _it only because he'd seen it in his _own _eyes in the mirror before. When she looked at this man – this _guy _she'd called dad – she saw something of a threat. Then he realised _why _she had been hiding in the institute, why she had wanted him to come along today. It was almost as if she had _expected _this would happen.

"She said no," Remy warned.

"Look, I don't know who you are-" began Tabitha's father, his voice was lazy, thick and cold. He was _clearly _inebriated. Remy wondered how he had even managed to locate them...had he followed them somehow? In a car? Remy hadn't noticed any cars following them; it would have been obvious surely if someone had been drink driving at the back of the van.

Remy dropped the basket to the floor, sweeping his glasses off with the other hand, "I'm the guy that's gon' cause a scene if y' don' get out of our faces," he said, "mutant causes any kind o' chaos in this place, police be out in no time," he looked the man up and down, reading him. Broken nose – looked like it had been broken more than a few times, and those eyes...so yellow, just like Jean-Luc's...the kind of eyes that were likely to glow in the dark if someone switched the lights out. Poorly done tattoo done on his hand, probably hand done, prison most likely. Jeans had seen better days, boots were both damaged, one sole coming away at the front, guy hadn't got a penny to his name.

And there was something about the way he looked at his daughter that Remy was _all _too familiar with.

"A mutant causes trouble in this town, it take the police two minutes t' be here. Police station is only 'round the corner and their response time is outstandin' in Bayville. All it'd take..." Remy held up his glasses and to begin to charge them, the black plastic beginning to glow as the kinetic energy of his powers began to charge. "Is f' me t' make a lil' bang...threaten a few security guards...and then leave y' here t' take the blame. See, I'm pretty proficient at escapin'...I'm a mutant...and so is y' daughter..." he gestured over his shoulder, he felt Tabitha grab his wrist nervously. "But you...y' a human...and not even a _healthy one _at that. It's one in the afternoon and y' smell like Whiskey...y' drunk and y' ain' gon' have the reflexes t' get away from the cops."

"Tabitha..." sighed the girl's father, his expression dark and stern.

"Like I said...y' leave...or y' gon' know all about trouble. I won' tell y' a third time."

"We'll talk," the man said to his daughter, almost warningly, and then spun on his heel, almost knocking over a display of hotdog cans, and left.

Tabitha stood silent, almost frozen. Remy drew the energy back from the sunglasses and put them back on, he turned to look at her, her eyes wide, glassy, tears threatening to spill.

"He's gone, y' can relax."

"No I can't...he's...always around, always following..."

"It's okay..." Remy squeezed her shoulder, "c'mon, lets pay for this stuff and get out of here..."

Nothing was said at the checkout; Remy found himself being landed with Tabitha's bill, as Tabitha seemed to be too lost to even function; she simply stood there at the side while he bagged and paid for the items. He had no qualms about paying, the items came to something like thirty dollars; he cared very little. Money was nothing, he had plenty of it and he understood the girl's behaviour. He understood it _all _too well.

As they walked to the van with her items, he saw he looking cautiously in every direction, trying to see if her father were there hanging around. Remy did not spy him anywhere in sight; he did however see Jean-Luc LeBeau, sitting in the passengers seat of a car passing by, looking at him with a dark murky grin.

Oh yes, Remy LeBeau understood _far _too well how Tabitha felt all right.

After loading the back with her items, Remy climbed into the drivers seat and started the van, "there anythin' else y' need t' get...anywhere else y' need t' go?"

Tabitha shook her head slowly, her eyes were misty.

Remy held the wheel, van parked in neutral for a moment, "that's why y' wanted me t' come, weren't it...y' knew he'd be lookin' for y'."

Tabitha looked away, she rested her elbow on the door, her fist against her cheek, she seemed distant, almost miles away. She said nothing.

Remy chewed the inside of his cheek, "that's why y' came back t' Bayville, t' the Institute...t' get away."

No response, but he saw the tear trickle down her face. Just an hour ago, she'd been a painted princess, a mask hiding a rather bruised little girl beneath. Only there were bruises no one could see, they were far beneath the surface, just like his.

There was a thick silence between them, the air so solid that even Logan's claws might have had a hard time slicing through. Remy swallowed hard, and said, "I know what it's like y' know."

"No," she muttered, her voice was cold and thick when she continued, "You don't know what it's like. _No one _knows what it's like. You don't know what you're talking about."

Remy's chest tightened, he stared out of the windshield, half expecting Jean-Luc to be looking at him from the other side. "He's fucked y', hasn't he?"

It was almost as if all the air had been sucked out of the van completely, and Tabitha turned to look at him, her expression mixed with guilt and horror; she hadn't _expected _him to say it like that. Not in such a direct, blatant, uncouth and _vulgar _way. But it was better than going one step up and calling it what it _really _was. The word he _never _liked to use for it because it made him feel far more _helpless _than he wanted to allow himself to feel.

The blonde said nothing, she hugged herself, lowering her head. Remy could read everything he needed to know right then, she was laid bare, walls broken down the _moment _that man had set foot near her. No one knew about this, no one, not even the Professor. She'd been hiding it for weeks, keeping up smiles and sassy attitude to fool everyone into thinking she was fine, painting her face thick to hide the hurt girl beneath. No one had taken the time to notice that she hadn't left the mansion for a good while...no one had asked _why _she'd returned to the institute at all.

As Tabitha shifted uncomfortably in her seat, a tube of mascara, two lipsticks and an eyeshadow pot fell out of her pocket, all brand new and sealed. She'd shoplifted them.

"Impressive," Remy paused, glancing down at them rolling between the seats. "I didn' even see y' do that."

The girl shrugged, turquoise eyes glimmering with the threat of more tears.

Remy picked up the eyeshadow, a gaudy colour of blue that would have looked more fitting on a drag queen than a seventeen year old girl.

"He taught me how to steal," she said quietly after a good few moments of silence. "Long before my powers kicked in."

Remy thought it ironic right then, how the girl almost reflectedhim in every way. Here she was, a thief and a victim, damaged and haunted by her own problems. It was almost like looking in a mirror. "How old was y'...the first time he did it?" he asked quietly, staring into space.

He almost thought she wouldn't answer, she had fallen so silent. And then after what felt like eternal silence broken only by the heavy rain, she said quietly, "thirteen."

Remy gripped the steering wheel hard; the thought almost made him angry. It always did when he thought of _anyone _in that situation. It made him angrier that the man had been a few feet from him, he'd missed a good opportunity to break the bastard's face.

"Can...we get back?" Tabitha asked with a sigh, "I want away from here..." she straightened up, sweeping her tears from her face, "ice cream will melt," she tried to sound bright, tried to change the subject.

As Remy drove silently back towards Greymalkin lane it was hard to not think of the things he'd avoided thinking of for weeks now. It almost felt as if Jean-Luc was in the back of the van with them; not just the _ghost _but the _real _Jean-Luc. Tabitha sat playing with the radio again, trying to distract herself, trying to get back into herself as she'd been before they left.

Parking back in the garage, Remy killed the engine and got out to retrieve Tabitha's groceries from the back; one of the bags had toppled and half of the items had rolled around the back of the van; he stood with his back turned to her, putting them back in, felt her presence at his back. She was hovering, somehow not knowing what to say to him. He sensed the apprehension and shame in her, and hated that he'd made her feel it.

As he placed the last item in the bag, with his back turned to her, he said quietly, "I was twelve."

He said nothing else to her as he passed the bags to her, shut the van and dropped the keys to the van into her open palm. He did not look at her, but he felt her eyes follow him as he left her standing there in the garage alone, probably realising that for the first time – just as he was right now – she was no longer alone.

Remy barely got to his room in time, his iPhone – which he had forgotten to take with him – was ringing. He picked it up, seeing an unlisted and unrecognised number; those always left him a little apprehensive as it was either usually a _contact _to do with his old profession, or someone trying to _sell _him something.

He accepted the call and put it to his ear, "hello."

"_Ah've been callin' for the last hour...where were you?_"

It was Rogue's voice on the other end; normally he'd have been excited to hear her voice, but at that moment, he was a little jarred from the thoughts he'd had about his childhood and from what had happened at the Baymart that Rogue's call came at a strangely inopportune moment when he hadn't had a chance to get himself properly together.

"Sorry, I..." he rubbed his neck, "I was at Baymart."

"_Ah was worried maybe you were on a mission or somethin'..." _she admitted, she sounded strangely so far away and an echo followed her voice so that it almost seemed like she was speaking twice. Was she still in Germany, Remy wondered, or was the mission moved further away now?

"No...just...had to take Tabitha to Baymart...she had her license suspended."

"_Again?" _Rogue asked, "she only just got it _unsuspended_..."

"Yeah, well apparently she was drivin' eighty miles up a twenty mile per hour street or somethin'," Remy pushed his door closed after looking outside to see if anyone was hanging around in the halls, "how's the mission?"

"_It's a pain in the ass, we're tryin' to locate this stupid army of assholes...they're kidnappin' our mutants..."_

Remy hadn't even heard of this, he realise it must have been an event that was not being reported in the newspapers.

_"We found one of the bastards, but he disappeared before we could get anythin' out of him! Three more mutants are missin'...Hank is tryin' to find clues now...me and Kurt can't do much except chase down leads...it's just a case of waitin' until Hank finds the next."_

"Damn," was all Remy could offer.

Rogue paused on the other end, "_Remy...are you okay? You sound strange..."_

_ "_I'm fine, jus'...pissed off," he sighed, "pissed off with all this waitin' t' see you."

"_It's only been...what, four days_?"

"Four days is too long..." he sighed, "how much longer y' think it gon' be?"

"_Hank's beginnin' to think it might be more than a week...it took us three days just to find the first lead...it's a nightmare..."_

Another week? The thought was painful. He needed her here, now more than ever. His mind was rife with horrible things, the ghost of Jean-Luc was haunting him wherever he went and looking at Tabitha and knowing she'd gone through similar things was only bringing more horror to the surface.

He needed his wife now more than he ever had.

"_Is everythin' all right over there?" _Rogue asked.

Remy thought about it. No, not everything was all right. He was a wreck without her, and right now, he wished he had a bottle of vodka (although there was little chance of finding that here). Telling Rogue that anything was wrong was just likely to get her to worry, to notify the others at the mansion, to have him _observed_. He didn't need that right now.

"Everythin' is fine...other than I miss y' real bad..."

"_Ah m_-" Rogue was about to say, and then was interrupted; in the background she heard someone talking, the German accent was unmistakeable.

_"Who is that?"_

Rogue replied quickly (her voice muffled, Remy realised she had her hand over the mouthpiece of the phone), _"just checkin' in at home."_

Remy felt slightly deflated that she couldn't even admit she was calling him, couldn't even admit she was calling him as a _friend._

"_Listen, Ah gotta go_," Rogue said, her voice a little whisper now, Remy suspected she'd gone into a different room, "_Ah got this temporary phone, it's one of those stupid prepay ones, Ah think the pre-paid credit is about to run out...Ah'll try to text if Ah can when Ah get some more credit on it, okay?"_

"Of course...I lov-" Remy was about to say he loved her before the line went dead – the phone beeped before he had a chance to finish his sentence. Remy wondered if she'd hung up or if the money on the phone had finally run out. He saved the contact and sat at the end of his mattress (still covered with dust sheets to protect it from the fresh paint). Hearing Rogue's voice made him feel even more frustrated...and far lonelier.

And on from the corner of his room stood Jean-Luc, his eyes seemed more yellow than they ever had, and he seemed as solid as he had in life.

"Y' ain' here," Remy swallowed and closed his eyes, he grabbed for his earphones and plugged them into his iPhone and put them in quickly, selecting the first track he could find, the most convenient, blasting it as loudly as he could despite it hurt his ears. Quietly, he whispered, not able to even hear himself, "Y' ain' here...Y' ain'."

* * *

><p><strong>End of Part Six<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Yay. It took a little while to get up but I got there. I've been so busy writing it that I sometimes forget to update it. Just finished writing part twenty-two so I'm along a fair bit (yes, it's going to be one of those long stories, as the past two were fairly quick). Hope to get another update up soon. Thanks to those who took the time to review and say such nice things about the story. Sometimes I get so paranoid that no one is reading and I get discouraged and then out of nowhere someone reviews, adds me as a favourite or follows the story and reminds me a few are still out there. I'm grateful for the reviews and for those who take interest in the story. Thank you so much!<strong>

**PS. I apologise for the way Remy asked Tabitha about her abuse, but it somehow felt more like it fit than if he had pussyfooted around it. I'm sure a few are a little shocked and then not so shocked about how he left the discussion with Tabitha too.**


	7. Part Seven

**BENEATH THE SURFACE**

**Part Seven**

* * *

><p><strong>*** as mentioned in previous chapter, mission in Germany isn't important, the only part that really counts is the distance between Rogue and Remy (don't flame for the shitty storyline surrounding the mission, lol). ***<strong>

* * *

><p>Rogue stared out of the kitchen window of the cottage they were renting just outside of Munich, a dismal rain was drizzling down over the wooded area surrounding the back of the place. Rogue wasn't sure the word <em>cottage <em>was appropriate when it came to this place, as it looked far more like a _manor._ The inside was quaint, cottagey in a way, with panelled walls, oak cupboards, stone fireplaces and far too many patterns on the drapes, blankets and sheets.

She'd wondered why such an unusual place to use as a base but it had space to land the red-eye in a clearing in the woods at the back, and Hank had assured her it was ideal as a base as it was near enough everywhere they needed to get to while being out of the way enough that their operations wouldn't arouse any suspicions.

"It's rained for two days solid," Rogue muttered, she sighed and moved away from the window to go to the kitchen table where Kurt Wagner was sitting at his laptop, expression one of intense focus.

"Since when do you care about the weather?" asked Kurt, raising an eyebrow, his eyes never leaving his screen.

"Ah don't," she shrugged. She supposed she'd had to have something to say. She felt useless here, standing around, waiting for Hank to come up with solid leads.

"I thought you liked the rain."

"Sometimes..." she shrugged. "Where's Hank anyway?"

"We almost got caught hacking last night, he's gone to get a piece of hardware that's going to make it harder for us to be traced," Kurt shrugged; Rogue realised he wasn't going to go into explaining the technical jargon to her because by now he seemed to have realised she had very little head for it.

Rogue paced a little, she felt irritable and restless, she couldn't settle.

"Are you all right?" Kurt asked, raising his head, his silvery yellow eyes followed her from one end of the room to the other.

"What kind of question is that?" she asked, she stopped in her tracks, "Ah'm fine..."

"You're going to start wearing a trail through those tiles if you keep doing that," Kurt pointed out, "You've been like this for days..."

"Bit of an exaggeration," Rogue rolled her eyes, she shoved her hands in the pockets of her hooded top. Her thoughts drifted to Remy; he'd sounded strange when she'd called two days earlier. She couldn't fathom what it had been, something had been rather different about his voice, he'd sounded a little angry and frustrated, while at the same time there had been a little lingering sadness.

It _wasn't _just about the frustration of not being together. It was more, she wished he would just admit it. Was he getting annoyed being with the X-Men? Getting annoyed with not being able to go on missions?

_You know what it's about...he's still not gotten over the fact that Jean-Luc died, _Rogue decided. Her heart ached a little at the thought of Remy being hurt over it all. Her heart ached at the thought there seemed to be absolutely nothing she could do to help her poor husband.

_My husband...husband, god it sounds so weird now that it's real, _she thought dully. _God, Ah hope Logan has an eye on him...hope that he's okay. Maybe Logan is the one Ah should be callin'..._

"Rogue..."

"Hmm?"

"I said you seem preoccupied."

"Ah'm just...sick of standin' around here..." she grumbled. Yes...she was sick of standing around wondering if she'd been foolish to think _distance _would help Remy. She'd thought at the time it might help him focus on helping himself rather than worrying about their relationship. She'd thought it might give her peace of mind to get her own distance for a bit, that she'd be able to relax. Since she had come she had not been able to relax at all. It seemed ironic, really.

_Damned if Ah do, damned if Ah don't, _she realised miserably.

Rogue felt it necessary to elaborate her dilemma, to make something up just to justify her preoccupation further. "If we could just find these two guys, if there was somethin' Ah could do to help..." she sighed.

"You are helping," Kurt assured, although she could see how, other than offering suggestions every now and then, she offered very little.

Without meaning to, she blurted, "Ah just wish Ah could get away from this place."

"What's wrong with Germany?" asked Kurt, slightly offended.

"Nothin'..." Rogue replied quickly, she tried to force a smile. _Except Remy isn't here, Ah can't keep an eye on him. "_Germany is beautiful, Kurt," Rogue spoke up, "But here...it's so out of the way, there's nothin' to do here...there's nothin' Ah can do here to help with the search...you guys have it covered."

"You could always make me a sandwich," Kurt gave a dazzling fanged smile.

Rogue sighed, she supposed it was at least something vaguely helpful. While she was in the middle of making the sandwich, Kurt's phone went off and he picked it up while still in the midst of typing hastily into his laptop.

"Kitty, hi!" he answered the call, sounding bright and cheerful. He pushed a button to place the call onto speakerphone, and he placed the phone, "What is up?"

Kitty Pryde's voice replied a moment later, slightly crackling from the long distance and a poor connection, "_hey – I got a result on that search you asked me to put into the system," _she sounded just as irritatingly bright, "_the police database had some info on the American in that gang, he goes by an Alias, I'm sending you his record right now. There's a property listed about fifty miles away from your location that he owns...it might be a lead, I don't know."_

"Awesome," Kurt said enthusiastically, "that might be a huge break in locating our missing mutants."

Rogue stood spreading butter upon the slices of bread for Kurt's sandwich, she listened to the call.

"Is everything all right there?" Kurt asked casually, waiting for the email with the information Kitty was sending to arrive.

"_Everything is fine_," Kitty sighed, "_I've been back a few days, it's already chaos here. Bobby is annoying the heck out of everyone right now. Oh, and Tabitha is back by the way._"

Kurt paused, Rogue knew he had something of a crush on the girl; the crush had died out a little when Amanda had been around but Amanda and her family had moved halfway across the country and Kurt had heard very little of her since. Rogue supposed it was only fitting the boy would want to move on after being heartbroken over it.

"She is?" asked Kurt, his voice couldn't hide the enthusiasm at this news.

"_Yeah, but, I don't know, she's calmed down a lot. She's not as crazy...I think she's grown up a little maybe. I swear though she's stealing my stuff..."_

"What stuff?" Kurt asked.

"_I've lost two shirts and a sweater...when I left I know they were in my closet, and now they're like so not," _Kitty grumbled. "_Either that, or it's the _Thief _in the house."_

Rogue turned to look over her shoulder at Kurt who had paused to listen.

"The _Thief?"_

_ "You know...Gambit," _Kitty retorted, "_he's at the institute now."_

_ "_No one told me," Kurt announced, Rogue felt him gaze at her with something of a curious expression. She hadn't thought it important to mention, had assumed it might make her affection for the boy seem rather obvious. "So he's a thief?

"_Yeah, I mean, that's what Lance always said he was. A professional thief"_

"Why would _Gambit _want your clothes, Kitty?" Rogue asked, snapping a little. She wished that Kitty hadn't brought this up.

_"Oh, Rogue!" _Kitty said, suddenly sounding slightly surprised, "_I didn't know you were there..._"

"Gambit isn't a thief any more, Kitty," Rogue swallowed, trying to bite back her irritation, "and he's not a _cross-dresser _either."

"_Wow, relax_," Kitty gave a nervous laugh on the other end of the phone, "_I was just making a joke. I'm a hundred and twenty percent certain it was Tabitha. I think I saw her wearing one of my necklaces too..."_

Rogue drew her breath, she didn't force an apology, it seemed unfair for Kitty to be spreading gossip about Remy over the phone, it was unwarranted, and definitely the last thing the boy needed right now in his life.

"It's cool Tabitha is back, place has not been the same since she left," Kurt spoke up, trying to change the subject from the stolen items.

_"I wouldn't be too enthusiastic about her return until you've checked to see what's missing from your room,_" Kitty teased.

Rogue spoke up, "How is Gambit settling?" she asked, hoping that the question seemed casual, as if she may be asking how the _weather _was.

"_He seems okay I guess_, _he hasn't been around much. He's painting his room or something..._"

Rogue supposed it was a good sign if he was painting his room, it meant that he intended to settle. If he was putting effort into making his surroundings nicer, then it was definitely a positive. "Is he trainin' yet?"

"_Yeah, he's training with the New Mutants."_

_ "_Wow...he must hate that," Kurt commented, "those kids don't do _anything _seriously."

Rogue snorted, it was ironic that he should comment, at times Kurt could be something of a joker too in the Danger Room and it usually got him in trouble. She said nothing and listened to the call.

"_I better go, I have to get to a training session with Logan, and you have some searching to do_," Kitty announced, "_if you need me for anything else, call me, let me know._"

Kurt hung up the phone, a little smile playing about his face. Rogue recognised it as the same smile he used to have when Tabitha had been around the last few times. "How come you didn't mention that Tabitha is back?"

"Ah guess it's just...you know, she's back and forth so much it's the _norm,_" Rogue shrugged, "Barely seems mentionin' these days."

"And _Gambit?" _Kurt seemed slightly confused, "You didn't say _anything _about that..."

"It didn't cross my mind," Rogue shrugged.

"It didn't cross your mind to tell us that one of the Brotherhood had come to live with us?" Kurt asked, a little laugh escaped his lips.

"He wasn't one of the Brotherhood, he was an Acolyte," she reminded, "And Ah just...Ah didn't think it would matter...he doesn't have those affiliations any more. Ah mean, you guys offered me a chance after _Ah _was with the Brotherhood so..." she trailed off.

"It's just weird is all."

"Why is it weird?"

"That he'd come back at all. I didn't think the X-Men were quite his thing."

"Ah have no idea _what _his thing is. Ah think he's tryin' to figure it out himself."

"I know I heard that you had gone to help him with some mission but _no _one said he was going to be coming back with you," Kurt admitted.

"Ah don't think he knew. It was a last minute thing...a sort of fancy he took Ah guess," Rogue forced a smirk, trying to seem almost whimsical about it, "he said to me 'what if I came back with you and joined'...and Ah thought he was jokin'. And then after we'd done in the Bayou, he asked if the offer was still open, he had no where better to be be, so...why not?"

"I just hope he can behave," Kurt mumbled.

"As if any of the _rest _of us at the institute know how to behave?" Rogue laughed a little, "that's what bein' young is about...misbehavin', mischief..."

"Yes, but...isn't Gambit _older _than us."

Rogue blinked, "he's my age..."

"Seriously? Man...I thought he was like twenty five..."

"No..." Rogue commented, "He sometimes _acts _like he is. Other than when he's bein' a baby," she muttered.

"Okay, the email got here, lets check this lead out."

* * *

><p>"I want a word."<p>

Remy LeBeau raised his head; he had been lying on his back stretched out on his bed looking at his iPhone, studying various motorbikes, trying to determine which the best Harley Davidson would be to buy. Logan had decided to come and interrupt that.

For the past few days he'd been feeling especially intruded on, as people kept sauntering into his room to ask if he wanted help with the repainting of his room (now he was going with a rather dingy grey colour which he'd found in the large shed in the grounds (he'd happened upon it while putting the lawnmower away). Something about Logan coming into his room left Remy feeling even _more _uncomfortable. Just as uncomfortable as he usually felt when he'd spy Jean-Luc in there.

"Yeah?" Remy asked, trying to sound casual, unaffected, _unbothered._

"I've been watching you in the Danger Room," Logan said, standing by the door, arms folded, expression stern as it usually was.

"So?"

"You've been on the novice runs, and you've come out pretty all right. Your team work is..._okay..._it could use work, but the Professor thinks you're not being challenged enough," Logan explained. "You far surpass the others physically, your speed is exceptional, your reflexes, your quick thinking..."

"So?" Remy asked again, he sat up slowly.

"I'm thinking I need to assess you properly."

"Oh?" Remy was intrigued now, "What y' have in mind?"

"It's only been a few weeks, but the Professor sees a lot of potential. I know you want to train with the X-Men but until you _prove _that you have it in you to be focused, in both a team environment _and _that you're capable of handling yourself, we can't think about pushing you forward."

"So...what now?" Remy queried curiously.

"I want to put you into the Danger Room on your own, to evaluate whether you're ready or not to be moved onto the next level of training."

"Then I can train with the X-Men?"

"Depending on how you do," Logan supposed, "the X-Men are on an exceptionally _high _level of trainin' – I'm sure even you get that just _one _person not knowin' what they're doin' in a session could be dangerous for them."

"I know that," Remy responded. He wondered if that was why Tabitha had been moved back into the New Mutant's training sessions again for the meantime. She had a tendency to be rather...unfocused. He'd seen it himself yesterday when she'd showed up during their session, her attitude rather foul. If that last mission she'd been on was anything to go by, Remy could see it being a wise decision.

"Suit up," Logan turned to leave, "meet me in the Danger Room, ten minutes. Be alert, and be focused, be prepared for _anything."_

Remy waited until Logan was gone and wedged the door shut with a magazine (something he had taken to doing when he changed because he was still slightly uncomfortable with the idea of someone walking in – especially Logan). He changed, his mind drifting to Rogue. He'd tried sending a few texts to her since she'd called two days before but each text was returned with a 'your message was not received' warning. His phone calls wouldn't connect, he wasn't certain what he was doing wrong. He'd hoped by now she'd have text him to at least keep him updated on what was going on in Germany but so far nothing.

He'd heard Kitty mention something earlier that morning (something about going to do some research for the mission in Germany) but nothing had been mentioned about Rogue or what she might be doing or how she was.

Rogue was still in his thoughts as he made his way quickly down to the danger room after dressing. He missed her badly, the mission in Germany was taking far too long. She should have been there with him, not halfway around the world.

_Logan should have gone there, not her, _Remy thought dully as he left the elevator and moved to the Danger Room; the doors were open for him and he walked in, looking around.

"Okay...I'm here..." he called up to the control annex, "What y' want me to do."

"Be ready," said Logan over the speaker, "You won't know what's comin'. Eyes and ears, eyes and ears."

_You can do this, show them what y' got, show them y' as capable as the rest, _Remy told himself. There were times when he had to rely on his confidence, to tell himself he was better than he thought he was and this was one of those times. It didn't matter about any doubts he suddenly thought he may have, it didn't matter if Rogue wasn't there to cheer him on or to talk him through it. What mattered was he knew how to fake his way through almost anything and he could _fake his way _through this.

There _was _no warning. It started nearly the second the doors hissed shut. The holograms shifting from one thing to the next, collapsing terrains, Remy having to dart his way across gaping crack and splits in the earth, then he was dodging what looked like whirring razors; he dodged one so poorly at first that he was _certain _he lost a lock of his hair (in fact, he was positive he saw the feather like strands dancing through the air).

_"_Pay attention! This isn't a game!" warned Logan. "These things can and _will _hurt you!"

Almost _embarrassed _about the slip, Remy dodged, and twisted and parried with opponents that came out of nowhere and disappeared just as quickly, robots that shot at him with lasers, they had deadly precision, him being almost burned (in fact he felt it graze his shoulder and burn through his uniform but he wouldn't let him stop him.

He was doing brilliantly; his focus was superb, just as he had told himself it would be.

And it was _one thing _that changed everything.

Opponents with the kind of powers _Nightcrawer _possessed were flitting in and out of his sight, slashing at him with katana like blades, he had to dodge and jump to avoid being hit; and then, one face flashed in front of him.

He _hadn't _expected to see Jean-Luc there, so _close _that he could almost feel and _smell _the alcohol on his breath. Remy staggered, falling backwards, losing his focus, Jean-Luc disappearing just as quickly as he had appeared. One of his opponents – this dark wispy shadow, almost robot-like slashed at him with a katana and Remy swung himself out of the way of it, he felt it slash his cheek. The blade came down again, this time Remy knew it was coming right at his neck and there was _no _way he could dodge it in time, it was too fast, and he was too thrown off thanks to Jean-Luc.

The Danger Room powered down almost immediately right then, holograms disappearing into a grainy sense of nothingness, and then the room was nothing but four steel walls and a very cold tiled steel floor.

Remy lay there for a moment on the floor, breathless, heart banging mercilessly like a snare drum so much that he could hear it in his ears.

"Gambit, are you all right?!" came a gasp; he felt a hand grabbing his shoulder, trying to lift him up a little. He turned to look into Ororo's soft face, her cool blue eyes examining the slash on his cheek.

"I'm fine..." he drew a breath shakily, "Los' my balance..."

"You're bleeding..." Ororo took a tissue from the pocket of her black pants and she pressed it against his cheek.

"Jus' a scratch," Remy gave a nervous laugh, trying to play it off.

"Come...the nearest medical kit is in the hallway," Ororo pulled him up slowly.

Remy glanced around the empty room, trying to hide his anxiety; Jean-Luc was nowhere in sight but he could still feel the bastard's presence strongly, clinging to him like tar to a roof. To try and play off his nerves a little more and the mistakes he'd made, he asked "How I do?"

As they got into the hallway, Logan met them, his expression dark, "what the heck was that?"

"What?"

"You were on form, you didn't miss a beat – you were doing great then...suddenly you panicked, lost focus..."

"I don' know what happened, I los' my balance," Remy shook his head, "think all the runnin' left me a little dizzy."

"If you can't do this..." began Logan, sounding slightly concerned.

"I _can _do this."

"Not for a while, you can't," Logan said, "you need more time, more practise."

Remy stood as Ororo wiped his cheek with an antiseptic swab, he winced at the stinging it left him with, "Y' know I'd be a good addition t' the team, don' let this one stupid thing-"

"That's _right, _LeBeau," Logan stood, arms folded, his brow furrowed, "one stupid thing. One stupid thing that in the field could be the difference between life or death. Yours _or _someone else."

Swinging his eyes away from the man, Remy felt furious, with Logan, with himself, and _especially _with Jean-Luc. It crossed his mind then to _tell _Logan what he'd seen, but he knew the kind of opinion it'd be met with. People who saw things like _dead _people were usually assumed to be insane_ or_ mediums. Remy knew the route that Logan would take if he should admit such things.

He'd find it a _reason _to keep him off the team. The less said about this, the better.

Remy tried to calm himself, tried to still the anger inside. _If y' ignore it, it's got t' go away._

That didn't seem possible...he'd been trying to ignore it for weeks and it only seemed to be getting worse; every time he looked somewhere, there was Jean-Luc, hanging around, reminding him of the things that he didn't want to be reminded of.

Ororo checked the cut on Remy's face, "it is just a scratch – you were lucky..." she placed a bandaid on, Remy thought it was going to look _more _obvious than the slash itself.

Remy thought what was more lucky that she didn't seem to see the burn in his shoulder; the fabric of his uniform had melted a little from the laser, but he could feel the burn beneath. He didn't want to complain about it and he didn't want to have to strip down in front of Logan just to get it seen to. "It okay if I go?"

"We'll talk later," Logan said as Remy went to pass him.

"I'm sure we will," Remy muttered, wishing it hadn't sounded so cold.

All the way to his bedroom, Remy was cursing himself, cursing Jean-Luc, cursing Logan. He cursed the X-Men too, although it probably wasn't their fault. Most of all he cursed Rogue, because she wasn't _there _and he needed her here. In his room, he stripped down and threw his uniform angrily towards a trashcan (missing it entirely). As he dressed back into his shirt and pants he kept cursing himself for letting Jean-Luc blow his chance at getting onto the team. For a while he paced anxiously feeling like everything was falling apart. Rogue was gone, he was in the _New Mutants, _and his walls were _still _ugly. Furiously, he kicked the paint pot sitting on the dust sheet near the back wall of his room (the one he'd been painting last). As he kicked it, it tipped over and the lid, which he had neglected to put on properly, flipped off and the paint seeped out onto the dust sheet.

"Fuck," he muttered.

"What that paint pot ever do to you?"

Remy turned to look at Tabitha who was standing in his doorway looking slightly amused at his behaviour. He felt quite foolish then.

"You've got quite a temper, don't you?" Tabitha asked, walking in, she moved over to the paint pot and picked up slowly. "Let me guess...bad session?" she looked him up and down in his uniform.

He turned away from her stubbornly, "lost my focus."

"Yeah, I've...been there," she said lightly, she grabbed the rag he'd been wiping his hands on and tried to mop up the spilled grey paint.

Remy watched her, wondering for a moment just how _there _she had been. He tried to make sense of her intrusion instead, "is...there somethin' y' want?"

Tabitha ignored the question; with a bare finger she smeared the paint from the plastic dust sheet, examining it thoughtfully, "what was wrong with the red paint?" she asked, gazing up at the painted wall.

"Changed my mind."

"What about all that stuff about how red was the colour of energy and passion?" she laughed, it sounded slightly vague.

"Ain' got much of that in my life right now, not sure a few red walls is gon' make it happen," he shrugged.

Tabitha wiped her paint-smeared finger off on the rag and tossed it aside, "well...hiding in your room isn't going to make that happen either, Gambit..." she pointed out. Remy almost thought to point out to her that she was hiding just about as _he _was. He might have said something, might have snapped due to his frustration if there had _not _been an immediate interruption.

"There you are!"

Remy turned to the doorway, one of the other students who had recently returned – Amara Aquilla – stood there folded armed, her expression fiery. In fact, it almost seemed like her eyes _were _on fire a little.

"You took my jeans and I want them _back_," Amara hissed.

Tabitha chewed her lip, "I'm only borrowing them."

"I don't _care_! Every time you borrow stuff, it _never _comes back in the same condition it left in, and those jeans are Gucci! They cost a fortune!"

Remy stared at Tabitha up and down for a moment; it took him a moment to realise that nothing looked right on her. The jeans – far _too _tight on the girl - digging into her hips and belly. It also seemed to him the cardigan the girl was wearing was slightly smaller than it should have been; it was _definitely _not hers either (in fact, the colour looked like something he'd see Kitty Pryde wear). Far too 'pastel' for a girl like Tabitha Smith. Then there were the shoes she was wearing – he immediately realised they were _Rogue's. _His wife had been wearing when he had been in Louisiana with him; he recognised the slight drop of blood on the edge of the sole – it had been there since he'd accidentally elbowed her in the nose. God that moment brought so many unhappy memories, the entire thing was still too close to the bone.

"Look, I'll wash them and put them in your room tomorrow, okay?" Tabitha sighed.

"_Now,"_ Amara commanded snootily, and spun on her heel – a rather expensive looking one, Remy realised – and left the room, slamming the door behind her.

A heavy silence fell on the room, Tabitha sighed and walked over to the window, pulling the cord on the blinds and lifting them up so she could stare outside into the gardens.

"You came with nothin'," Remy said, his voice rather low. "Y' left y' home and came with nothin' but the clothes on y' back."

Tabitha lowered her head, Remy saw in her profile view that her left cheek seemed to go furious red, she frowned a little. "I didn't have a choice."

"Why didn' y' tell someone...?"

The blonde spun around to look at him almost accusingly, "would _you_?"

It was a ridiculous question. He supposed he wouldn't have, really. Instead...he'd have figured out a solution himself rather than _admit _to being in a bad situation. He'd grown so used to doing it since he was young that it hardly occurred to him any more that it might not be so easy for others. It struck him then that the day he'd taken her to the grocery store, she probably hadn't even had the _money _to pay for those groceries in the first place. He wondered if she'd intended to con him into buying them for her, or she'd have waited until they reached the checkout before admitting she was flat out broke.

Remy looked at his t-shirt with a sigh, he supposed other than a few small flecks of paint, which had dried, he looked acceptable enough to go out. "Fine...lets go."

"Go?" she asked, her expression somewhere between lost and hurt.

"T' the mall. T' buy y' some clothes so people get off y' back. I need t' get some things myself anyway..." he swept his hand through his hair tiredly.

"I can't _afford _to-"

"Don' worry 'bout it," Remy sighed, "I got funds."

"I can't let you do that..." Tabitha shook her head.

"But y' _can _steal Magma's Gucci jeans and _Rogue's _shoes?"

Tabitha dropped her eyes to her feet, "how did you know they were-"

"Only Rogue would wear shoes with skulls on the laces," he said quickly, trying to hide the fact he paid _attention _to these things, paid attention to Rogue more than Rogue would like him to admit to.

"Look, it's a nice gesture and all, but I _can't _pay you back, and the Professor isn't giving me a decent allowance until school starts, so-"

"It doesn't matter. Y' can pay later in favours."

"Favours?" her eyes widened. "What _kind _of favours?"

He realised that her mind _immediately _went to the kind of favours a man _might _expect a pretty young girl to use as currency. He felt foolish and more embarrassed than he usually did. "Y' can take over my chores f' the next few days. Especially the laundry...I fuckin' _hate _doin' it...and y' can help me finish paintin' this room..." he gestured.

"Really?" she seemed somewhat surprised.

"Really."

"You're sure it's okay?" she asked, she chewed her lip. Remy thought it funny, she'd never seemed the type to suddenly be so worried about taking _advantage _of someone else's kindnesses or money. But then...he'd been the same until coming here.

"It's fine. C' mon."

* * *

><p>At first, the idea of going to the mall with Tabitha had been almost stomach churning; in the car (he borrowed Scott's car without permission, but luckily Scott was away on a mission with Jean and Logan so he'd never know hopefully) Tabitha had been sitting watching the mirrors, keeping an eye out for any suspicious activity...watching that <em>no one – <em>such as her father – was following.

From store to store she'd be looking over her shoulder although Remy didn't sense that Tabitha's father was stalking them. Jean-Luc on the other hand he spied in the display window of a men's store they were passing. Remy had to look twice, feeling anxiety rising in his throat at the thought of Jean-Luc being _there _too. When he'd looked the second time at the display window, a mannequin had been in Jean-Luc's place, modelling a rather stylish grey jacket.

Instead of thinking about Jean-Luc, Remy tried to distract himself by thinking about how as of late he'd grown to detest shopping due to Rogue's complaining about how much he liked to spend. He always wondered why Rogue was so worried about money; it was as if she thought there was never going to be any more in the world.

Tabitha on the other hand, wasn't _quite _as anxious about money as Rogue was and had picked a fair few things without seeming to care much about the prices of them. She was somewhat slightly unrealistic about her _size _though. The poor girl had grown rather reluctant to admit having gained a few pounds and kept picking her old size out on racks then complaining about not being able to get the right fit, or them looking far too tight.

Remy watched her, she was stood in front of a full length mirror in a trendy clothing store, examining herself in an aviator style jacket. The jacket was more expensive than he had thought to spend on _one _item (it being somewhere in the region of a few hundred dollars), but he decided he wasn't going to fight her on this. The girl had _nothing _of her own other than perhaps one set of clothes. Rogue would have picked out about five outfits for that amount by now and probably been looking in a sale bin for shoes by now.

The thought of that made him miss Rogue more, even if she was a little bit of a penny-pincher. They would have _not _spent this long clothes shopping if Rogue had been here.

"It isn't closing," Tabitha sighed, the zip refusing to shut at the bust. "What is it with this place? Nothing fits."

"Maybe they're gettin' in sizes from elsewhere. Not labellin' them right," Remy shrugged, trying to play along with her self-denial. Nothing had fit properly in the last four stores, resulting in her having to either go a size up or look for the slightly more _generous _alternative. "Try the next size up."

Tabitha shrugged out of the jacket and handed him it to put back on the hanger, she turned to go find a larger size, sighing unhappily. "My dad used to take me clothes shopping," she said after a minute, expression slightly distant. "We'd go into stores where they didn't pin electronic tags on things...I'd go out wearing half the stuff I tried on. Layer things on...he'd be hitting on the shop girls to distract them and I'd walk right on out wearing stuff I hadn't paid for..." her lips curled into a strange almost bitter smile. "The only one time he ever really _gave _me anything..it was...it was a ring..."

Remy tilted his head, listening, feeling drawn in by her admissions.

"This stupid...dainty little sterling silver ring..." he dropped her eyes to her hand, "it's a real diamond...he said he bought it. I don't know if I believe that now..." she examined the ring in question, moving her hand thoughtfully, "that was after the _first _time."

His stomach churned a little, "the first time he did it..."

A diamond ring...and a minuscule one at that. Not much of a _sorry _for scarring your child for life. It almost made him so angry he wished he could hit something.

Tabitha drew her breath, "it's stupid...isn't it...accepting that ring. Payment for _services rendered,_ daddy's little whore..." she chewed her lip. "He put it on my finger like he was _proposing..._took a minute to get it past my knuckle...and then it just...wouldn't come off. It never _has_..."

Remy wondered right then how she could be so _blasé _about it at that moment. He never could have admitted to things like that, not without being prodded and prodded and perhaps being _drunk _first. He wondered if he _hadn't _admitted to what he had a few days before, if she'd have said anything at all.

"Gimme y' hand..." Remy said, he reached out to her.

An expression of uncertainty painted on her pretty face, she gave him her small hand, he clasped his hand over hers, pressing his middle finger and thumb hard against the ring, covering it with his other as he focused all his kinetic energy into the ring.

Tabitha gasped a little, "what...what are you doing...?"

"Stay still...don' panic..."

"It's...it's getting hot...it's shaking..."

"Stay still..."

"Wha—ow!" she cried out; there was a strange loud pop, and then three small clinks as the ring fell to the floor in pieces. "That hurt..." she winced, rubbing her right hand ring finger, her cheeks red.

"It's gone...one less thing t' remind y' of what that asshole did," Remy muttered, he pushed the broken pieces of ring away with his toe, hiding them under a rack of clothes. "C' mon, lets finish pickin' out y' clothes so we can get out of this place."

* * *

><p><strong>End of Part Seven<strong>

**Weee, two updates in one day, I'm on a roll. Mmm...roll...preferably with bacon on it...okay, this diet is driving me mad. Anywayyyyyyyyyy.**

**A few more little revelations, a little more drama (not too much angst hopefully). Don't pick at me for Gambit's new astounding power of blowing up rings on people's fingers...I don't pick at you guys when you write Rogue suddenly gets control of her powers in one day, lol. I doubt Gambit could actually blow up a ring on someone's finger without blowing the finger off too, but this is fiction people, _fiction. Lol._**


	8. Part Eight

**BENEATH THE SURFACE**

**Part Eight**

* * *

><p>Rogue tossed and turned. She couldn't sleep no matter <em>what <em>position she lay in, she couldn't find any comfort. The room was too hot so she'd open the window, but then the flies and moths would get in and she'd feel them buzzing and flapping around her face; then the air would get a little too cool in the room and she'd shut the window, but the problem of the insect life that couldn't seem to find its way out again was harder to solve. She didn't have any insect repellent nor a bug killer handy.

She twisted over on the bed and reached for her phone, picking it up and switching it on to check the time. It was almost three in the morning, instinctively she checked to see if there were any bars in the signal icon at the top of the screen...she hadn't been able to get a signal out on it in _days. _She'd tried but trying to make calls outside of Europe seemed to be an exercise in futility on this cheap phone. She'd hoped by now she would have at least received a text or a phone call from Remy, but so far nothing had come through. She'd tried to tell herself perhaps he was having the same issue, but her worried mind kept going to the place where she imagined he was still slightly annoyed with her for leaving at all, that he was playing the silent treatment game to teach her a lesson.

_Bein' too suspicious again,_ she reminded herself as she switched on the light and pushed the covers off; she sat there for a few moments, sweeping her hair from her face and yawning. It wouldn't be much longer; they had one more person to find in relation to the missing mutants, the person who would lead them to the end of their mission. Rogue had hoped it would be over with by now, but for the past two days there had been nothing but false leads and dead ends.

Sighing, deciding that instead of trying to sleep she may as well go make herself a cup of coffee and try to do some searches online to help with the mission. Whenever she tried this, it usually came up useless (she certainly wasn't as intelligent as Kurt or Hank when it came to such things), but it was better than sitting doing nothing but try to sleep.

In the kitchen, Kurt Wagner's computer was still set up; the screensaver had various pictures of cartoon characters in colourful costumes with unrealistic hair styles, reminding her of the quirkier side of the boy that he hadn't grown out of yet. She filled the coffee maker, turned it on and then sat down at the laptop and pushed the mouse, bringing the screen to life.

The damn thing was passworded. Not that it was necessarily a warning to keep out, he'd told her she could use it if she wanted, he'd offered numerous times through the week.

It took her a few moments of racking her brains and trying things she _thought _Kurt would use as a password to finally happen on the right one. It was ridiculous that his favourite German band happened to be his password. It was so obvious that she was certain half the mansion would have cracked that one in two minutes.

Immediately, as the password was accepted, Rogue found herself in disbelief, looking at the browser logged into some kind of pornography website. She gaped, the things she was looking at (an array of various explicit videos) left _nothing _to the imagination.

_Oh my God,_ she made a face, realising that Kurt must have been looking at _this _right before bed. As the kitchen seemed to be the only room in the entire cottage that the wifi connection seemed to work, she supposed it wouldn't have helped him to take that laptop upstairs for his...private viewing.

Rogue shook her head in disgrace, one particular video seemed not all that unlike the position she'd found herself in with Remy on the yacht. Chewing her lip, she turned and looked over her shoulder, glancing to see if anyone might be about to happen upon her the looked back to the screen, examining the screen capture. Was _that _how it had looked? Perhaps not quite as...attractive. This woman had far bigger breasts than she did, a deep tan and blonde hair, the man she was with didn't have the physique Remy had, but he did have far less clothing on.

But yes, this was how it had _probably _looked...vaguely.

Curiously – somehow just compelled through pure absurd fascination – Rogue clicked the link beneath the video. The sound from the video seemed to _blast _out of the laptop's ridiculously small sound system as the video began _playing _itself without even prompting. Despite the volume was _clearly _on it's lowest setting, it almost appeared as if it were echoing throughout the entire house as the night was so silent that any sound might seem monstrously loud.

She hit the mute button, gasping, her face going red, she turned around and looked over her shoulder again, hoping no one was about to catch her. No...no one had heard. She could usually hear floorboards upstairs creaking if anyone so much as took a step, she'd know.

_Unless Kurt decided to 'port down,_ she realised, grimacing. She felt a little uneasy at the thought of what Kurt might have been looking at from this site, and she _hoped _he had refrained from doing anything until getting into the privacy of the room he was staying in at least. Twisting the laptop around to face the other direction (so she could look straight at the door and see anyone coming) she shifted her seat and sat there watching the video.

She supposed for Remy's sake was this was probably the kind of thing she _should _have been watching, at least trying to understand _his _fascination with the act. She watched, trying to somehow avoid focusing too much on the _graphic _and shaky close ups. The woman lying there, breasts barely moving (clearly a pair of bolt ons, in Rogue's opinion), him slamming into her like a man trying to force a massive load into a washing machine and never quite getting it all the way in.

It occurred to Rogue the woman didn't seem to be doing all that much, nor making much sound (although she had it muted she could see the woman wasn't opening her mouth). Various comments by members of the site even stated so below the video, Rogue spied various mentions of '_why is she lieing there like a blow-up doll lolz' _and '_wow she's a s**t f**k' (_leaving her wondering why the users were censoring words when the title was so apply named 'man fucks woman hard in pussy', it seemed rather pointless to censor the comments).

Rogue swept her hair away from her forehead tiredly, wondering if this was what Remy had thought about his time with her. She'd lay there too; she hadn't _expected _that to happen, hadn't really known how to participate, especially not with a man that up until that day she'd _never known _she might actually have sex with.

_It wasn't sex, _she reminded herself. _It was just a fucking mess._

Remy had taken the blame for it being something of a mess, admitted to restraint and care. She had to wonder if he'd taken the blame feeling that _she _was perhaps the reason why it had gone so badly and was simply trying to appease her by letting her _think _it was his fault. Rogue wondered perhaps if even her pale and rather inadequate body had been what had sickened him; it was nothing in comparison to the tanned blonde bombshells he seemed to go for. She was nothing like Belladonna...nor that _Brandy _girl either.

_Bet he didn't feel sick when he was with them, _Rogue thought dully. Looking back at the yacht incident, she supposed she felt almost _guilty _for not even _trying _to participate properly, when she'd tried to touch him even gently on the arms, he'd seemed distracted by it. It hadn't been sexy, it had been awkward.

_Does Remy watch this kind of thing, is this where he gets ideas for the kinds of things he does with all the pretty girls he's been with? _Rogue shuddered at the thought of the kind of things Remy probably looked at on this kind of website. The _too graphic _closeups and points of view of what went where and what the outcomes were, some of which she'd only spotted brief glimpses off on screen captures from the previous page.

She shut down the website in disgust, both with it (a closeup got slightly too graphic for her liking) and in disgust with herself. This kind of perverse fascination wasn't _normal _was it? As she closed the window down, she spied an icon on the desktop page. _Skype_.

She tilted her head curiously, wondering if Remy LeBeau would have such a thing as Skype on his iPhone. It seemed plausible...she was certain she might have even seen it amongst the icons on his screen while he was looking at the thing. If there was ever a time to talk to him, _now _would be opportune. It was late in Bayville...it must have been somewhere around nine or ten at night, he'd probably be alone in his room. And she had some time alone without interruptions herself; she wouldn't have to try and _hide _the fact she was talking to Remy. Wouldn't have to make up excuses why she was calling him.

The program was already logged in much to her delight, she located the search bar and typed in his name, finding that he had _not _registered under his real name (and there seemed to be _no _Remy LeBeau's at all on Skype). So much for the thought she might get in touch with him, might _actually _talk to him without interruptions.

_Wait...what about his alias? _She suddenly realised. Out of sheer curiosity, and as something of a last resort (although she wondered if it could be classed that as it was only her second attempt at searching) she typed in _Jeremy LeNoir, _his _favourite _alias.

There were far _too _many results. Several. Rogue had thought the name might be unusual but apparently it was very common, Rogue supposed that was why it was so easy for him to use as an alias, when it came to _finding _the alias, there were _many _with that name. She went through the list, trying to find anything that would hint that one of them _could _be his. And then to her luck, she happened on a profile picture...it _was _him.

He was wearing sunglasses, he looked slightly younger, perhaps two years younger, his face a little softer, less chiselled and refined; his hair was scraggy, his face so clean shaven that he looked almost like a girl. But it _was _him, of that she was certain.

She wasn't certain at all or not if he happened to be online or logged into the application at all, but deciding to take a chance, hoping she wasn't about to wake up some stranger instead, she hit the large green _call phone _button.

It beeped, then rang, and rang. There was a click, and Rogue _immediately _knew his voice, he sounded clearer on this than he had over the phone when she'd called him. "_Hello_..." he sounded tired, as if he'd been woken up.

"Remy...it's me..."

There was a pause, she could tell he was trying to wake himself up a little, "_Marie?"_ he asked, a little _too _loudly.

"Ssh!" she warned, "yes...it's me..."

"_Who's BlueFuzzBalls?"_ Remy asked tiredly.

"Huh?"

"_Says the caller is BlueFuzzBalls..." _he yawned.

"Ah'm callin' from Kurt's laptop...and it was already logged in," Rogue answered, "Ah guess that's his username or somethin'."

"_Thank god it you, thought it might be some guy wit' a serious problem and a likin' f' my profile picture..." _he grumbled. "_Why ain' y' been in touch?" _he asked of her, sounding a little hurt.

_ "_Ah tried, Remy, Ah swear..." she sighed. "But every time Ah tried to call it just wouldn't go through like it did before...and Ah even tried to text you, and they just got returned...please believe me Ah _wasn't _ignorin' you or-"

Remy interrupted, "_it's okay...I'm havin' the same issue, must be somethin' t' do with the international call thing or somethin'...usually I got it all figured out but somethin' about that phone number seems messed up..."_

"Sorry," she sighed.

"_It's okay...sorry I got on y' case about it, it's jus'...Y'know, I really hate bein' away from y' this long. When y' comin' back?" _he asked, a sigh escaping his own lips.

"We're close to crackin' this, just a few more days maybe...it's drivin' me nuts out here..." she groaned.

After a moment, suddenly the profile picture of Remy on the call screen was replaced with the _live _image of Remy LeBeau, sitting up looking tired, hair a mess, eyes puffy; behind him she could see the wall was painted in two different colours, one looked grey, the other red.

"_Put the camera on...feels like forever since I've seen y'...all I got t' remember y' by here are stupid old photographs of you lookin' miserable at pizza hut."_

"Ah don't know if this even _has _a webcam..." Rogue admitted, she pushed the _video _icon and waited, her own image popping up in the corner. She looked just as tired as he did.

"_Y' still look the same,_" he said, almost seeming relieved.

Rogue leaned on the table, now that she had him there she didn't really know what to say and face to face it almost seemed more awkward now. Just briefly it crossed her mind to bring up what they had discussed about _sex, _about how he felt it was his fault it had been rather poor. She couldn't get the words out somehow. She supposed at least he was able to look her in the face much more easily now than when she'd been at the mansion.

"What's goin' on with the walls behind you?" Rogue asked, feeling it was about as much of a topic as she could find.

"_Oh that...I been paintin'. First I thought red would look good but...it didn'. But I found some grey paint...tryin' t' fix the mess."_

Rogue chewed the inside of her cheek, she wasn't convinced the grey looked much better. He held his phone up and showed her the half-painted room. It definitely did not look nice from the phone's camera, she wasn't certain it would look remotely nicer in person either. "Nice," she lied.

"_I fucking hate it," _he muttered. _"Should have never started...shoulda just left it beige or whatever the hell it was before I even started."_

"It'll grow on you."

"_Yeah, so does melanoma...I wouldn' wanna live with that either."_

Rogue tried to change the subject, she could see the focus on the redecoration was _not _helping his mood. "You look tired, sugar..."

"_Yeah...was a trainin' session early this mornin'_," he rubbed the back of his neck. "_Was up at four thirty._"

"Fuck...Ah'm sorry...it was stupid phonin' you...Ah didn't think Ah'd wake you. Maybe Ah should go-" she sighed.

"_No..._" he said quickly. "_Don' go yet...I'd rather miss the sleep..."_

"But you're tired..." she pointed out.

"_But I've missed y'..." _he admitted.

Rogue thought about this, she wondered if this could be a way to talk about the situation a little. "You have?"

_"Yeah..."_

_ "In...what_ way have you missed me?"

_"What kinda question that?" _he asked, his blurry image on the screen looked perplexed.

"Ah mean..." Rogue tried to think of how to properly voice her thoughts. "Have...you missed me the way you'd miss...Ah don't know...Belladonna..."

Her husband straightened up, his expression dark, "_chere...what the fuck? Are y' tryin' t' start an argument?"_

_ "_No," she sighed, "just...god, just forget it."

"_No...y' better say what's on y' mind," _he commanded, "'_cause that was a real unfair thing t' ask...I mean it sounds like y' tryin' t' ask me if I _don'_ miss y' at all..."_

_ "_No...that's not-" she tried to explain, not sure how to really elaborate on how she had meant it.

"_I mean...has somethin' been said or somethin' about me? Someone say somethin'?"_

Rogue paused, "Hmm?" she was curious about what he meant by that. "What would someone have said?"

He shook his head, "_Nothin', I jus'...I wanna know where y' get off makin' a comment like that about Belle...I mean...y' tryin' t' accuse me of _not _missin' y'...I don't know what I did t' deserve that..."_

_ "_Ah _never _said that," Rogue sighed. "That's not what I was...you know what...forget it..."

"_Y' in a bit of a mood or somethin' with me?" _Remy raised an eyebrow.

"Of course not," Rogue sighed.

"_Did I do somethin' t' piss y' off?"_

_ "_Of course not...Ahm just...gettin' sick of bein' here is all."

"_I'm sick of y' bein' there too..."_ he gazed away from the phone he was holding, his expression shifted quickly, he looked almost angry and slightly unnerved.

"Remy?" she asked.

He turned his attention back on the phone, "_Yeah?"_

"Is...is there anythin' you wanna talk about?" she asked carefully.

He gave a deep sigh, "_nothin' at all..."_

_ "_And everythin' is okay?"

"_Everythin' is okay," _he assured. He looked so tired, his face sagged and from the blurry picture of him on the screen he looked ten years older.

"You look exhausted, sugar," Rogue ran her hand through her hair, "Ah'm gonna end the call...let you get some sleep..."

"_Don' go yet...jus' stay a little longer, okay?" _he asked of her.

Rogue watched him, he had lay down, the camera on it's side. He looked terribly sad and so thoroughly exhausted. She wished she knew the right words to tell him everything would be all right and that some day, whatever Jean-Luc had done to him and Jean-Luc's death would be easier to deal with. It was hard to voice these things, hard to acknowledge it because whenever she tried it seemed to hurt him more.

"What do you want to talk about?" she asked.

"_Sing t' me a bit, jus' til I fall asleep..." _he requested, he lay there looking at her with his tired eyes.

Her cheeks flushed a little, "Remy..." she groaned.

"_C'mon...jus' us here...no one gon' hear."_

_ "_How about Ah just hum?" she offered, she wasn't an exceptional singer, and never had been. Humming was acceptable, it was hard to hum off key in her opinion.

"_Okay," _he agreed.

She sat quietly humming the only tune she could think of – something soft by Evanescence – while alt-tabbed onto onto the browser so she could look for any more news articles about missing mutants. When she checked some minutes later, he seemed to be fast asleep, and although she had stopped humming, he seemed to not stir.

"Remy?" she asked softly, to which he did not respond.

Taking one last look at his handsome face, she sat there for a moment, admiring and feeling an ache thinking of just how far away he was; she _did _miss him more than she had thought she might. She sat there for a moment deep in thought, interrupted by heavy footsteps coming down the hall. She gazed ahead in the dimly lit hallway to see Hank McCoy staggering his way tiredly along, rubbing his face. Quickly she ended the call, she didn't need Hank seeing her watching her husband sleeping.

"Can't sleep either?" she asked.

"A moth kept fluttering near my nose," Hank grumbled, he moved over to the coffee pot, "You've made coffee," he said appreciatively.

"Yeah."

"Thought I may do some more work on this mission, see if I can find any more leads."

Rogue rolled her neck, "same."

"I thought I heard you talking to someone. About twenty minutes ago."

She glanced up towards him, her cheeks burning furiously hot at the thought Hank might have overheard the discussion with Remy...might have overheard her _humming _to him.

"Skyping with friends, were we?" he glanced down to see the Skype menu almost completely obscured by the browser (but not quite enough).

"Yeah..." Rogue sighed, she supposed it would be _easier _to tell the truth (at least partially) than to lie and find herself caught out. "Ah...thought Ah might check in with Gambit...see how he's gettin' along now that he's in trainin'."

"And how is he getting along?"

"Fine, he says," Rogue answered. "He's...you know, gettin' along great..."

"Charles mentioned something about wanting to get him into some form of education but he's being rather...resistant regarding the subject," Hank admitted.

Rogue wondered if this was something Hank should have even been disclosing to her. She supposed ultimately it wasn't as if these things were likely to be a secret. "Yeah...he...he left school when he was real young, Ah guess...at least...that's what he told me."

"He did?" Hank poured them coffee, he brought hers to the table after retrieving the milk from the fridge, he set the sugar bowl on the table and he took a seat at the side of the table, "what age?" he asked curiously.

"Fourteen, Ah think he said," Rogue tried to think, "it was like a month ago he told me, it's hard to remember exactly what he said."

"Why did he leave?"

_Because his daddy didn't think it was wise keepin' him in full education, didn't probably want to give him ideas, wanted to brainwash him into being a cashcow, _Rogue thought dully. "Ah think he just...didn't like the pace."

"I see."

"He's smart, Hank," Rogue poured milk into her cup, "He's good at math...and he's a logical thinker...and the things he can see in people...just by lookin' at them...he's so perceptive."

"He still needs an education, Rogue. What about his future?"

"That's why he's with us, Ah guess."

"Putting his future in the X-Men isn't a good _permanent _arrangement. He should have options, possibilities. Education is vital."

Rogue forced a strange smile, "you're a teacher, Hank. You _have _to say that."

Hank smiled too, "perhaps. I do think he would benefit from school."

She tilted her head, looking at Hank curiously, "Why are you tellin' me?"

He sipped his coffee for a moment, "You're rather close to him, aren't you?"

Her cheeks flushed; she wasn't exactly _certain _how much Hank knew about her relationship with Remy and she would rather keep it as vague as possible right now. The last thing she needed was another person knowing how she felt about the boy, another person who might find _fault _with the relationship just as Logan did.

"No!" she blurted, eyes wide, "what the heck gave you that idea..."

"Hmm," Hank seemed slightly puzzled, "I guess I assumed that the weeks you spend together, you would have become good friends..." he stared down to the table, Rogue could tell he was thinking of something, weighing the situation. She wondered how much _he _had observed.

"We're friends," Rogue nodded, "But...but that's it."

"Well...being his friend, it would make you impartial to trying to help steer him in the right direction."

"Right direction of what?"

"Enrolling at Bayville high, just for his final year. It'd be a pity if he missed this opportunity...and I don't think the Professor is comfortable with the idea of having him sitting around the mansion on his own all day while everyone else goes to school or college."

Rogue sighed, "Ah spoke to him before but...he didn't like the idea."

"Try again, but be gentle, don't try to make him feel forced," Hank suggested.

"But you really _do _want to force him."

"We'd just like to be sure he has chances, Rogue. We'd do the same for _every _student," he took a long drink from his coffee, then stood up, "I'm going to go get my laptop and we'll see what we can do to find our last target and hopefully find those mutants."

Rogue watched him go, she sat there holding her cup, thinking about Hank's words, her mind a whirling mess of Remy's problems and ideas about Remy's future. Right now, she had to force those back and focus on the task at hand; the faster they completed the mission, the sooner they could get home, the sooner she could be sure Remy really _was _all right.

* * *

><p>Remy hated morning training sessions in the Danger Room; it seemed rather cruel to be getting up at ridiculous hours like four thirty to train. He understood the logic of it all – emergencies could arise at any time of the morning, day or night and they needed to get used to the pace of such an event. But still, to be hauled from a warm bed and into the ridiculously chilly danger room (which as he understood was super cooled to stop the servers behind the walls from burning out), it wasn't his idea of a good morning.<p>

He hated the rush of getting ready, the knowing he'd be fighting along side the New Mutants, listening to them bickering in the hallway, watching them showboat and trying to outdo each other and impress the instructors.

He was usually the first to get down there; the uniform the Professor had assigned him was in an ottoman against his wall, everything ready to be put on the minute an alarm sounded for training. He could be ready in under three minutes; he didn't even need to do much to his hair other than sweep it away from his face. He kept his weapons of choice (his cards, his bo-staff) right by the uniform.

Remy sat outside in the sub-basement hallway right outside, the Danger Room doors wouldn't open until the others arrived and they were yet to get there. They were all probably _still _fighting over who got to the bathroom first, probably still looking for their boots and belts.

As he sat there alone, his mind drifted to Rogue's call last night; it had been welcome to finally see her but yet he still felt emptier all the same knowing she wasn't going to be home probably for some time yet.

He sat there on the cold steel floor, spinning his unextended telescopic bo-staff absently, wondering why she'd looked so preoccupied (at least as far as he could tell on the grainy poorly lit webcam image). He wondered what she'd meant by asking if she missed him the same way he missed Belladonna. It had been the oddest most unexpected question he was sure he'd ever been asked.

Tabitha's heavy boots coming down the corridor alerted him to her presence long before she even got remotely close by. He turned and watched her, her gait heavy and tired, her hair poorly brushed.

"Y' look..." he tried to think of a nicer way to say she looked quite bad.

"Like shit, I know," she muttered, she pressed her back to the wall and sank down beside him. "I didn't sleep last night."

"Been there," he commented, he laid his bo-staff down and pulled his deck of cards out of the pocket on his belt (it was almost like a utility belt, but less bulky. It definitely wasn't as cool as the belt Batman wore in the movies he'd watched as a child.

Tabitha didn't say anything, he wondered if she hadn't slept because of the things that had been said in the clothes store. Or had she just not slept because it had been a particularly hot night? Silently, Remy sat shuffling cards for a moment.

"Y' wan' see a magic trick?" he asked.

"Sure..." Tabitha shrugged casually.

"Here..." he handed her the pack of cards, "Pick a card...and focus on it real hard. Take the card, push it against y' forehead, hold it there tight and _really _think about the number. Shuffle them, gimme them back. Mind and remember what the card is...make sure I don' see it either."

Tabitha did as she was told, she picked her card, looking focused for a moment as she put it to her forehead, closing her eyes, looking as if she might be _very focused_ on the card. She placed the card into the middle of the deck and began shuffling. He noted that the girl was quite a decent shuffler, he'd suspected as much, just like he suspected she would.

"Okay," he accepted the cards back, he gave them a quick shuffle, "Now...I'm gon' split this deck int' three..." he split the deck quickly into three sections, and pushed away the two. "And again..." he split deck once again. "And..." he splayed the cards out on the floor, making sure to look rather focused and thoughtful for a moment as he selected her card from the leftover of the deck. "This," he picked it up, "it was this one."

Tabitha accepted the card from him, the two of spades. She gave a vague laugh, "how did you know?"

"Magic."

"You're telepathic?" she asked.

"Jus' observant," Remy took the card back from her, "Look..." he held the card sideways, "y' see it?"

"No..."

"When y' press it t' y' forehead with y' hand, y' bendin' the card a little...this a new deck, all the other cards are pristine, see...not a single bend...except this one card..." he smirked.

"Damn I should have seen that coming..." she rolled her eyes at herself. She watched him shuffling the card again for a moment, "you know other tricks?"

Remy nodded, "I can put a phone int' a bottle, I can break a breadstick wit' a dollar bill. I can make a penny melt right int' the bottom of a beer glass...lots of stupid little tricks..."

"That's sort of cool," Tabitha supposed, "when I was a kid, I used to love magic tricks. Used to sit watching all those magic shows...big illusionists. I always figured later that maybe the guys were mutants."

"Some of them are," Remy shrugged, "that British guy y' see on TV...he's got t' be one of us...no one can do the things he do wit' out havin' _somethin' _extra."

Tabitha smirked, "guess not..." she adjusted the buckle on her boot, "so where you learn the magic anyway?"

Somehow he hadn't expected to be asked; he'd never expected _she _would ask. He lowered his eyes, staring distantly into the tiles on the floor. "My dad...my..._adoptive _dad."

"Was he the one who-" Tabitha began; he was quick to predict exactly what she was going to ask, quick to be sure to cut her off before she could even ask it.

Remy interrupted her quickly, "I don' really wan' talk about him."

"Oh..." said Tabitha, it was more of a whisper than anything. "Okay..."

And it was left just like that; she didn't push him, she didn't _try _to pry further. She simply sat there, picking at the split ends of a loose strand of hair. He almost expected Jean-Luc to appear right then, to be standing there looming over them both. But the hallway was silent, empty other than them, at least until the others began to arrive. The Danger Room doors hissed open and as he got up he briefly glanced to the blonde, her eyes met his and there was a strange knowing in her expression.

There probably wasn't anyone else then he'd ever met who _knew_ exactly how he felt. It was odd, not feeling so alone, even with Rogue so unbelievably far away.

* * *

><p><strong>End of Part Eight<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks to everyone who has taken the time to review for the past few chapters, it's so nice hearing from you all. I liked the observation about the chemistry between Remy and Tabitha. It is rather strong in comparison to the chemistry Rogue has with Remy right now, who knows if that'll change or not ;)<strong>

**Hope to have some more up in a week or so depending how things go. Hope you all like this instalment, have a great week all :)**


	9. Part Nine

**BENEATH THE SURFACE**

**Part Nine**

* * *

><p>It was almost <em>ten <em>days before the mission in Germany was finally done with. Rogue felt her anxiety levels rising up in her chest as Hank was expertly piloting the red-eye into the hangar; for a man with such large hands, she always found Hank to be strangely precise and gentle when it came to everything he done. He had a rather delicate way about things, she had always thought it strange, first looking at him one always expected a brute with a rough and heavy handed approach while it was anything from the truth. Despite his beastly form, he was gentle inside _and _out, the heart of a poet, the mind of a genius, the precise and gentle grace of a rather bulky ballet dancer.

_It's funny, isn't it? _She asked herself, watching Hank taxi the small plane right next to the wall; she saw how close he was to it and all the same the wing didn't even so much as graze it. _Can never judge a book by it's cover...or by the words in the prologue, _she realised. It made her think of Remy, and how she'd judged _him _once by the same standards, thinking him just a collection of good bone structure, nice skin and a great smile, he'd struck her as a jerk with a smart mouth and a quick wit. Remy was just like a book; perhaps the cover was tacky, the first few chapters were gripping she supposed, caught the attention, a little filth for flare and filler just to captivate the reader...

But taking the time to get _further in _to those chapters, the more erratic his story became.

_If Ah asked Remy what genre his story would be, he'd probably tell me action adventure, _she mused. She was thinking the genre would be more in the lines of _tragedy._

She was glad when the plane finally stopped moving, glad to be out of the plane so she could stretch her legs, she had gotten quite numb some time ago during the flight. The Professor met them outside of the plane, he gave his reserved smile as he always did, and spoke; everything about Professor Xavier was usually reserved, he could sound kind but always kept it sounding reserved, respectable and business-like. She wondered how long it had taken to drill that manner into him when he'd been younger.

"It is good to see you all back," the Professor greeted them.

"It's good to be back," Hank admitted, he looked somewhat tired; he'd insisted on piloting the whole journey despite both Rogue and Kurt were more than capable of handling the red eye.

"Were there any difficulties?" the Professor asked Hank directly.

"We located all the missing mutants, two were very near _dead _when we found them," Hank begun to explain. Rogue stood there with the others, listening as Hank recounted the entire tale to the Professor (although it seemed unnecessary, she was certain they _must _have discussed these things on the phone surely?). She and Kurt chimed in where it seemed appropriate, but for the most part, Rogue wished she hadn't felt so obligated to stand there.

She wanted to see Remy.

Kurt had been on his computer far too much for her to be able to use it for private calls to Remy. The night after her first skype call to Remy, she'd gone down again to try and make another call after Kurt and Hank had gone to bed, but she'd found the laptop password had been completely changed and she hadn't been able to crack it this time. Kurt had acted strangely that morning when he had seen her on his computer (almost shifty, as if he suspected she had definitely seen what he'd been looking at), but she hadn't assumed he might password it to keep her out in future.

_He clearly wanted to keep me from trackin' his browser history to see all the smut he's lookin' at, _Rogue thought as she tossed the boy a quick glance.

"I'm sure you all would like to go rest after the long journey," the Professor admitted after as much of the mission briefing had been passed along. "We can discuss these things later."

Rogue wasn't sure what else there might be to discuss, but she was glad for the dismissal all the rest. She was eager to see Remy, eager to know that he was all right. "Professor," she said quietly, "can Ah have a word?"

"Of course," the Professor nodded.

Hank and Kurt left to go unpack their items and settle back home. Rogue stood watching until they got into the elevator leading right from the hangar; when the doors had closed and she could hear the distant whirring of the mechanism within moving the elevator up the chamber, she glanced down to the Professor, "How has Remy been?"

"Remy has been fine," the Professor nodded, "he's still training; and is quite impressive in the Danger Room. In fact, he's in there now, and I should be there too," the Professor nodded his head in the direction of the hallway which led from the hangar to the corridor the Danger Room could be located, "come."

Rogue followed at his back, "Is he still training with the New Mutants?"

"For now," the Professor admitted, "Logan and myself feel he does need a little more time to adjust to the pace of the Danger Room."

"Has anythin'...you know...changed?" Rogue asked awkwardly.

"How do you mean?"

"Has he...Ah don't know...acted weird or anythin'?"

"He's been a little distant," the Professor supposed, "but he's grieving, Rogue, and grief can take it's toll. He needs time," he stopped in the hallway and pushed a button to a small elevator and rolled in; he waited for Rogue to enter. "He hasn't said anything to me, but I'm sure he's missed you."

Rogue saw the slight smile on the Professor's lips, almost as if he were amused at the prospect, she felt her cheeks grow hot a little. "Hank thinks Ah should try to convince him to enroll at Bayville high...for our final year."

"Yes, I've discussed it with Remy but he seems rather...unwilling. Perhaps you would have more success in changing his mind."

"He's a smart guy, Professor...and he's really capable of everythin' he puts his mind to. Ah don't doubt he could catch up with a few missed years school in one year, but... Ah'm not too sure he _needs _a year of high school education..."

"It's not so much about the education, Rogue," the Professor admitted, "I think it would do him good to be out of the mansion; he's been out very little these past few weeks, I think I've only heard mention of him going out once since getting here. I think it would do him good...it would be nice to give him the chance to be a _teenager _for a little while."

Rogue sighed, she didn't disagree with the thought. Rogue had always gotten the impression that Remy had had to grow up rather fast, that his childhood hadn't been spent _being _a child. Still...she wasn't sure sending him to Bayville High would help him recover any of that lost childhood, she wasn't sure it would help.

"Ah'll speak to him," she finally said, "but Ah can't promise anythin'."

"It would be appreciated," the Professor smiled.

Entering the Danger Room Annex, Rogue stared through the large glass windows down into the Danger Room. The hologram had been programmed to look like a bustling New York street; the New Mutants were fighting with a Golem-looking robot with tentacles and they were rather focused today.

"Welcome back," said Logan, who was sitting at the control panel, running the program; he didn't even glance up to know she was there.

"How is the session going?" the Professor asked, moving to the control panel, he looked down at one of the angled cameras.

"Fine. Tabitha is...slowing down though."

Rogue searched the mess of rubble, upturned cars and fighting mutants until she located Tabitha, dodging tentacles and throwing small bombs at the golum robot. "Wow...what the-"

"Don't say it," Logan warned her coldly.

"But she's-" Rogue gritted her teeth.

"I _know," _Logan muttered.

Rogue watched the girl, it seemed she'd gained what seemed to be almost six or seven pounds in the space of just a few weeks. Her face seemed rounder, her body softer, her belt seemed to be digging into her. "She's always been so...skinny."

"Charles, is there somethin' goin' on with her?" Logan asked, "somethin' ain't right here. I can't put my finger on it."

"She's a teenage girl," the Professor replied, although Rogue saw the expression of concern on his face, "weight can be rather...easily put on."

"Should we be talking to her about this?" Logan asked, he turned and looked at Rogue almost cautiously almost seeming to wonder if she should be there for this discussion.

"Is she exhibiting any other strange behaviour?" Professor Xavier asked curiously.

"Hard to say, I don't watch her twenty-four hours a day, got enough to deal with here," Logan replied. "Rogue, did you notice anything before you left?"

"Other than she was six or seven pounds lighter?" Rogue asked, "No. She seemed fine. She borrowed makeup, that's about all. Ah barely spoke to her, but she was herself," she admitted. Her eyes followed Remy, he was on form today, fast and responsive, nothing could touch him. He looked like he belonged there in the Danger Room. Rogue couldn't understand why the Professor hadn't promoted him to the X-Men's sessions yet.

"I'll speak to her," the Professor decided, he sighed, "please be discrete about this discussion, Rogue, and do _not _go repeating anything you may have heard."

"Of course," Rogue said, "Ah can keep a secret..." she reminded.

Logan ended the session as the timer on the dash sounded, "Okay, times up!" he yelled into the microphone. "Hang down there a minute, I'll give you the evaluations!"

Rogue watched as Logan left the room, she stole his seat at the control panel, "Remy seems so good out there, Professor," she admitted, she used one of the monitors to zoom in on him through one of the cameras, "how come you haven't moved him to our team yet?"

"I'm not contesting that he's capable," Professor Xavier admitted, "but I don't want to push him into anything he may not be ready for."

"What makes you think he's not ready?" Rogue tucked her hair behind her ear.

"Logan thinks he's slightly distracted..."

"Maybe Logan doesn't know what he's talkin' about," Rogue muttered.

"No, in this case I trust Logan's judgement...and you should trust it too."

"If you say so," Rogue tilted her head, watching Remy; he was standing next to Tabitha and something was whispered between them. Tabitha laughed about something and Remy gave something of a sly almost amused smirk; he mumbled something back but it was hard to read his lips from the angle Rogue could see him from. At least he seemed to be getting along with the others from what she could tell.

To look at Remy today, it seemed like he was doing fine, no reason to worry. She wondered if he _was _getting better, if perhaps he finally had settled or if it was an act. It struck her that it was no way to live her life, constantly on edge wondering how _together _he was.

_Can't be any easier for him, _she realised unhappily. _He has to keep up appearances, pretend to be fine when he's not. That's definitely _no _way to live._

* * *

><p>Remy LeBeau's bones were aching from the Danger Room session, but it felt almost <em>good <em>in a way, to be tired from a tiring training session than anything else. It felt almost...productive in a way he couldn't explain. Felt as if he hadn't wasted the day doing other pointless things like trying to fix the mess he'd made of the walls in his room.

He went into his room and shut the door, sighing tiredly. He stood there for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck; he'd twisted it a bit when dodging out of the way of one of those tentacles on the robot; he didn't feel it was seriously hurt but right now it felt tight and stiff. As he stood there, he realised there was a presence lingering around him again; it didn't surprise him. This presence had been lingering for weeks, it didn't seem to have any intentions of leaving now.

Remy turned slowly, unsure if he wanted to confront Jean-Luc or not, he tried to still himself just in case the appearance of him had gotten worse (as it seemed to be gradually becoming more and more decayed as time went on). He did _not _expect to see that Rogue was standing there.

For a moment, he almost wondered if he were hallucinating. How had she gotten in? She wasn't even supposed to be back yet, was she? "Rogue..." he breathed.

"Surprise," she smiled a little, her dull green eyes glimmered like polished jade.

"Where were y' hidin'?"

"Behind the door..." she smirked, "Saw y'all in the Danger Room, rushed up here to hide and surprise you."

"Y' definitely did..." he pulled her into his arms quickly, holding her against him tight, heart pounding just at the thought of how close she was, how unreal it felt that she was actually there again.

"Oww," she laughed a little, "You're suffocating me..."

"Sorry," he loosened his grip, "it's jus'...I can't believe y' finally back. I missed y'..." he examined her once again, drinking in her features. It seemed strange how in ten days she'd changed and yet had not. If anything, she seemed more attractive. Perhaps it was that absence really _did _make the heart grow even fonder.

She chewed her lip a little, her expression coy, her body language slightly awkward, "you did?"

"Y' know I did," he carefully swept her hair from her face.

"In...what way?" she asked demurely.

Remy stroked her hair tenderly, "in the way that I've missed havin' y' close, hearin' y' voice..." he gave a slight laugh, "even the way y' yell at me."

"Ah mean-" Rogue began.

A knock at the door interrupted her, and Rogue immediately broke away from him, her expression thoroughly embarrassed as the door opened and Tabitha Smith waltzed in _without _so much as an invite.

"Hey, we're all goin' out for pizza and then gonna catch that new 3D movie downtown-" Tabitha began, "Oh...hey, Rogue," she realised Rogue was there at once, and for a moment, seemed quite surprised to see her there in Remy's room at all.

"Hi," Rogue said, she seemed to be quickly racking her brains for an excuse to be there. She turned to Remy suddenly, expression dark, "Look, all Ah'm sayin' is, you _broke _my phone, and you should be the one to replace it!" she suddenly snapped at him.

_Okay, so we're pretendin' we were arguin' then, _Remy realised. He was tired of this game; it was easy to pretend he and Rogue weren't married when she wasn't there, nothing was obvious, there was no real secret to keep. But now it was back to this ridiculously annoying game again. "I..." Remy faltered, trying to think of a good response, "I needed somethin' t' blow up at that moment...y' phone was lyin' there. Ain' my fault if y' careless with y' shit. That thing wasn't even worth ten bucks anyway. I mean...that phone was released when I was in diapers."

Rogue folded her arms stubbornly, "that phone was only two years old – and you better replace it."

Tabitha gave a gentle tinkling laugh, "think you better do it, Gambit, before she rips you a new one."

"Yeah...I...will..." Remy sighed, "look, I'll buy you an iPhone, okay?" he touched Rogue's shoulder, it was an absent response which she _quickly _shrugged away from. He was almost hurt by that rejection even if it _was _just for show.

"The new one?" Rogue asked.

"The new one...? Y' sure y' want that one? I hear all sorts of horror stories about it bendin'..."

"Ah want the best your money can buy."

Remy thought this was a rather poor pretend fight; any other time Rogue would have _rejected _the idea of him buying her anything remotely expensive.

"Yeah, Gambit, don't be cheap," Tabitha poked him in the side. "Anyway, like I said, we're all going to see that 3D movie so...you coming?"

He didn't even need _time _to think about his answer; Rogue was here and he did _not _want to go seeing a movie – regardless if it was in stunning 3D or not – when he could be spending time with his wife. It had been a week and a half, he needed alone time with her. "Y' know...I think I'm gonna pass. I hurt my neck pretty bad out in the Danger Room, and I don' wanna sit with my head tilted lookin' at some pretty boy get his muscles out in 3D, all the same."

"If it were _tits _in 3D, it'd be a different story," Rogue said meanly.

"Tits are always worth seein' regardless of what dimension they in," Remy retorted. "But anyway, I'm gon' pass. 'Sides which, I got t' finish paintin' this shit up..." he gestured around his room which he still had not finished. The red was _not _hiding very well beneath the grey paint.

"Leave it and I'll help tomorrow, just like you asked me too anyway," Tabitha shrugged.

"Rogue's gon' help me," Remy said.

"Ah am?" Rogue blinked.

"Y' wan' me t' buy y' an iPhone and y' don' even wan' pick up a pain' brush and help me? What kind of friend are you?" he frowned at her.

"A bad one, evidently," Rogue folded her arms, "Ah ain't paintin' shit."

"Bitch," Remy muttered under his breath, hoping that she'd _know _he'd never call her this in any other circumstances than to fake a fight.

"Why don't you come along, Rogue?" Tabitha encouraged.

"Ah'm goin' to have a long bath and have an early night after dinner. Ah've had a long trip and Ah'm tired. Besides, goin' to the movies with y' all is a nightmare, Ah never hear anythin' 'cause Bobby and Jamie always start talkin' over the movie makin' up their own dialogue."

"That's what's fun about it," Tabitha laughed, "Oh come on, you two are such kill joys."

"Nah..." Remy shook his head, "I got too much to do..."

"Fine," Tabitha rolled her eyes, "But I'm going. You two be boring and old."

"Yeah, we will, thanks," Rogue waved her off, "Have fun."

Tabitha left the room, the door shutting behind herself. Rogue stood watching the closed door for a moment, wondering if it was about to open again with Tabitha coming back one last time with an attempt to change their minds.

"You asked her to help you paint..." Rogue said.

"She owes me some favours," Remy shrugged, "chore stuff."

"Swapped chores?"

Remy decided to lie, it was easier than explaining _why _he'd had to buy Tabitha new clothes, and easier than having to admit how much he'd spent on the blonde. Rogue would _surely _not be happy. "Somethin' like that."

"You two seem to be good _friends,_" Rogue raised an eyebrow at him, "she just waltzed in here...no invite."

"So did you," Remy pointed out.

"Ah'm your...wife..." she said, her voice barely a whisper. "Why didn't you want to go?"

"Y' think I'm gon' pass up a chance t' be _alone _wit' you?" he asked, "everyone is goin' out...and me and you gon' be here...time t' ourselves...no interruptions."

"Oh..." Rogue said, her expression thoughtful for a moment, "what did you...uhm...have in mind?" she gazed up at him.

"Thought maybe we coul' order take out, watch a movie t' gether in the Rec Room...y' know?"

Rogue seemed to have expected a different answer, "Oh..." she mouthed. "Look, Ah don't know...what if someone stays back..."

He sighed, it was always a possibility. "When we gon' stop playin' this game?"

"Just a while longer," she said gently.

"It'd be nice t' jus' admit that we're t' gether. Look, if y' wan' keep it quiet that we got hitched, it's fine, I promise, I won't be mad about havin' t' hide it. I know Xavier says we gotta anyway. But...we shouldn' have t' hide bein' in _love._ I don' see it complicatin' things. It's only gonna complicate things _more _if people don't know."

"It doesn't seem to be complicatin' anythin' now," Rogue pointed out.

He supposed at the moment it didn't, but how long would that last for?

"Remy..." Rogue said after a minute, "can...we talk about somethin'?"

Here it was. It was only a matter of time, he supposed. She was bound to start asking questions again about his _past, _about the things he didn't want to talk about with anyone. He didn't want to be pressed right now about it, it was still too close to the bone. And besides...Jean-Luc might be listening. "Right now?" he asked, "'cause...I'm kind of sick of talkin', Rogue...can't we jus'...y' know...settle down, get comfy and hang t' gether and watch somethin'? No serious stuff f' once?"

Rogue seemed slightly disappointed, "if...that's what you want."

"It's _exactly _what I want," he assured. "And by the way..." he moved to his dresser and opened the top drawer, "I already got y' the new iPhone...here."

Rogue blinked, "Ah was _kiddin'._"

"I know, but I got pissed off not bein' able t' get through t' y'...so here. It's all set up, I put some numbers int' it for y' but y' need t' charge it up 'cause it died while y' was away..."

"This is-" she seemed to be on the verge of saying it was too much, but he stopped her.

"Jus' say _thank you,_ and accept that it's a gift," he warned her. "Go charge it, I'll keep an eye out for the others leavin' and I'll text y' on it when we're in the clear t' hang t' gether, okay?"

Rogue nodded, gazing down at the box in her hands, "thank you."

"Now, y' better go, before—"

The bedroom door opened, Logan stood there looking slightly annoyed, "out," he gestured to Rogue.

Rogue sighed, "but-"

"Yeah, I know the spiel, yadda yadda yadda," Logan nodded his head in the direction of the hall, "and you know the _rules _about closed doors_._ Out."

Rogue smiled a little, rolling her eyes, "Ah'll see you later," she promised Remy, and with that she left the room. Logan standing making _sure _she left completely.

Logan eyed the half-painted walls up and down, his expression slightly displeased, "this is a mess..."

"Yeah...it...didn' turn out too good. Not so sure I like the colour any more," Remy rubbed the back of his sore neck. "Not sure I'm even gon' have enough t' finish the last wall neither."

"That grey paint is too thin, the red is just going to keep showin' through. You should have primed it first. You're just wasting paint."

"Didn' think about it at the time," Remy grumbled, he didn't like the intrusion of Logan there; nor did he like that Jean-Luc was lurking at Logan's back. Couldn't Logan even sense the son of a bitch? No...it wasn't likely.

_Can't sense what ain' there, I guess, _Remy realised unhappily.

"We'll go out tomorrow, get primer and a colour that you like," Logan promised.

"I can do it myself," Remy complained.

"Fair enough," Logan retorted, and he left the room, closing the door quietly behind himself.

Remy stood looking around his half-painted room; it felt more and more like the unfamiliar room of a stranger every day. It looked like some indecisive madman had lived in this room. He had to fix it. _Maybe I'll get Rogue t' pick the colour, _Remy decided. He was amused momentarily thinking the colour she'd pick would probably be black. He supposed anything would be an improvement on what he had right now though.

_Just a shame I can't paint over Jean-Luc, cover him up too._

* * *

><p>It was almost seven before everyone went to the movies; it was a group effort <em>including <em>some of the instructors. Logan had decided to go on this outing, Rogue wasn't certain if it was merely because he wanted to chaperone and make sure they all behaved, or if it was simply because he had actually wanted to see the movie too. Either way, it had worked in her favour, as if Logan had decided to stay around she was almost _certain _he would try to prevent them from being _too _alone.

With Hank going to the movie too, the Professor doing some work in the Sub-basement and Ororo visiting a friend, the place was _deadly _silent. Everyone was out, it was so peaceful.

Rogue went down to the rec room to meet Remy after he'd text her to say the others had left. They sat going through an online movie rental app on the mansions smart television (Remy seeming slightly disappointed that anything rated R was passworded) until they found a movie they wanted to see.

It felt oddly strange being alone enough for the first time in so long; Rogue curled into his side and lay against him, listening to the beat of his heart more than the dialogue and sound effects on the science fiction movie he'd chosen (she'd simply gone along with the first choice he'd madde merely to appease him).

As he sat there content, eyes fixed on the screen, she wondered what was going through his head; he seemed so relaxed and happy but she still couldn't trust it. She reminded herself of the first day of their vacation, she'd wondered the same thing when he'd seemed to be so happy and normal...and then things had begun to quickly go downhill.

Could he really be happy with _this _as a relationship? He certainly wasn't happy keeping it a secret. It was an impossibly difficult relationship to be in. She was married, and right now, being back with him again left her feeling pressured in ways she hadn't been miles away from him.

The thoughts of the yacht came flooding back, and the thought of that amateur porn she'd caught on Kurt's laptop. She couldn't get either out of her head, and it struck her that the reason _why _she couldn't avoid thinking about either was that they both seemed rather _poor _for what they were supposed to be.

Remy had acted strange towards her ever since that day; he could look at her now without the same embarrassed and worried look on his face, but she couldn't help thinking he was still somewhat humiliated that the whole thing had gone so badly. In her mind she saw that woman (that horrible 'actress' with fake breasts and orange tan) laying there still on the edge of a bed being slammed into with no response, not trying to engage the guy at all.

Rogue felt almost guilty for not looking at some of the other videos to get a sense of what it _should _have been like. She wasn't sure though that pornography could have really given her a sense of the _real _thing when there was supposedly (as far as she'd heard) so much horrible acting.

She straightened up a little, glancing towards the open doorway leading into the quiet hall; no sound, no footsteps, no sound of the Professor's electric wheelchair anywhere nearby. Chewing her lip, she gazed towards her husband; when she'd waited in his bedroom for him to arrive, she'd almost thought he'd have a rather _desperate _welcome for her. It left her feeling rather dejected that he didn't seem _interested _at all. It wasn't that she'd _hoped _for arousal, but it might have been encouraging.

_Ah guess now that he's had it, it's nothin' important any more,_ she supposed dully She dropped her eyes to his thigh, wondering briefly if it would be _all right _to try and get close to him that way. The first time she'd tried she'd gone straight for him without _any _warning, frustrated with the things his father had said to her about how he'd known what she was capable of doing with her powers and how it was very unlikely she could give Remy the kind of sex he needed.

The bastard was dead now, but she still almost felt as if he was right; the issues on the yacht certainly proved that.

Tentatively, she dropped her hand lightly onto his knee, made it seem so casual (at least she _hoped _it seemed that way) and left it there a while. It was almost another ten minutes before she gently began running her gloved finger along the cottony fabric of his jogging pants in slow deliberate circles, her eyes on the television screen; she could only see dark vague reflections of him from time to time, she didn't dare to look and see if there was any reaction.

She wasn't even certain if he _felt _the advance, because he said and did nothing. Nervously, she brought her hand up a little closer, tried to remind herself that she was capable of being bold, she'd done it before, it should have been easier now. Her eyes swayed towards the hallway again just to make sure they were _still _alone, her fingers squeezing his thigh just a little now. Even relaxed his leg was so firm...or was that tension? She bit into her lip to try and help herself hold her nervous breath and she pulled her hand up a little more; there was no _way _he could have ignored that advance.

She moved her hand up and down his thigh now, so slow, gentle massage, wondering if it was doing anything at all but distract him from the movie; it didn't even seem to be doing that. She frowned a little at the television screen wondering if it could be that _science fiction _was sexier than her.

_Lets face it. _Potatoes _are sexier than you, _she thought dully at herself.

"Subtle," Remy said after a moment.

"Huh?" she asked, her breath caught in her throat a little.

"Y' been rubbin' my leg f' the last twenty five minutes...when y' gon' go in for the kill?"

"Ah..." she almost wanted to laugh, nerves making her stomach jump and jitter like butterflies and moths trying to escape a jam jar.

He slowly moved his glance towards her, he raised an eyebrow, he placed his hand on hers, bringing it up a little. It surprised her that he was already fairly aroused; she hadn't thought that the thigh rubbing would have done much for him. He breathed in a little through his nose. "We're married, y' allowed t' do this y' know..."

She swallowed her nerves, it hurt her throat to do so, "Ah...wasn't sure if you were-"

"If I was what...?" he squeezed her hand against him.

"Okay with it..." she tried, she didn't want to be too direct about it, she didn't need to hurt him any more than he already was.

"I'm fine," he assured, "Jus'...fine..." he tipped his head back, "Keep goin'."

She watched him, a little fascinated by his reactions to the gentle touching just over his pants; he was getting more out of than she'd have thought he might. Just as it seemed he was getting fairly excited by it all, the all _too _familiar of the front door to the mansion (the way it always slightly banged when it shut) disturbed the act and Rogue gasped, yanking her hand away from him swiftly and pushing herself along on the couch to make as much space between them as possible.

"What the-?" Remy asked, seeming rather confused.

"Hey, I'm back!" a voice called out from the foyer.

Rogue and Remy turned to look at each other, she saw Remy mutter "_Tabitha?" _under his breath, he grabbed a nearby throw pillow from the corner of the couch and quickly pushed it against his crotch, he sat sideways, trying to make this look as _natural _as possible. Rogue wasn't sure _she _would have even been convinced _nothing _was going on if she'd walked in upon this scene.

Tabitha sauntered in, removing her jacket – a brown leather aviator one Rogue had _never_ seen before. Who had she stolen _that _from? "What are we watching?"

"Uhm..." Remy seemed to fight to get control of the situation, "Beyond Earth...I think...?"

"After Earth," Rogue corrected.

"I thought you went to the movies with the others..." Remy ignored Rogue's correction.

Rogue folded her legs under her on the couch, resting her elbow on the armrest. She sighed inwardly, slightly frustrated with the intrusion. Two intrusions in the space of just a few hours...it wasn't making this any easier. "Movie suck?"

"We got there and like, the movie we wanted to see was sold out, they all wanted to see this _stupid comedy _instead, and like, I was like _no, _so here I am," Tabitha gazed towards the television momentarily, "what did you say we were watching?"

"After Earth," Rogue answered dully, she cast a glance in Remy's direction, he looked almost apologetic although she wasn't sure why he should.

"Cool, okay, so...I'll go make some popcorn," Tabitha said brightly, "Pause it, will you?"

Remy hit the pause button, watching as Tabitha waltzed off to the kitchen.

"Typical," Rogue muttered under her breath when the girl was out of earshot.

"We should have gone out," he muttered.

"And be _seen _together?" Rogue gasped, gaping. "Anyway, this was _your _idea...it was your idea to hang here and-"

"Why don't we jus' be straight with her?" Remy suggested softly, "Jus' tell her we're havin' a private date..."

"Look, please don't tell her...Ah don't want her sittin' there makin' judgements...thinking about things and wonderin' _why _someone like you would take up with someone like me..."

Remy looked at her, he said nothing but she could tell he was quite critical of this comment and he was holding his tongue.

There was a smash in the kitchen, Rogue winced, "great, she's gone and broke a dish or somethin'."

"I'll go clean it up," Remy muttered, he pushed himself up, a sigh escaping his lips.

"What's up your ass?" Rogue cast a frustrated glance towards him, his tone was rather cold right now, it wasn't like him.

"What's up my ass..." Remy frowned, "nothin', Marie, nothin' at all..." he shook his head and walked away. Rogue had the sense that if there had _been _doors to the rec room, he most likely _would _have slammed them.

* * *

><p>Remy LeBeau stood at the kitchen door for a moment examining Tabitha, she was kneeling on the floor picking up pieces of broken ceramic, sniffling. He always felt that sense of loss when he saw a woman cry, it was one of those powerful things that always had the strength to turn him into a statue, left him not sure how to really react or what to say.<p>

"Y'...okay?" he managed, realising that if he hovered any more, Tabitha was most likely going to notice his presence anyway.

She glanced up nervously, she took a big deep sniff, blinking, she wiped her left cheek quickly on the back of her hand, fingers clutching a rather large piece of blue ceramic; the item had clearly once been some kind of mixing bowl.

"Jus' a bowl," Remy said, "No reason t' shed a tear..." he moved over and knelt down to help pick up the mess. He already sensed these tears were _nothing _to do with the bowl smashing.

"Maybe it was my favourite bowl," she tried to crack, a wide smile seemed to nearly break her face, her pretty turquoise eyes seemed button like, shimmering as tears welled.

"We'll get y' a new bowl then," he supposed, he held a few of the broken pieces of the bowl in his hands, he stared at them for a moment. "He was there, wasn't he."

The blonde was silent, picking up pieces, putting them into the garbage can nearby.

"Y' should have told Wolverine."

"I didn't want him knowing," Tabitha swallowed, "he couldn't see...we were in the lobby at the movie theatre...I could see through those huge windows looking down into the street...he was there, sitting in this stupid grey Volvo...watching. I had to sneak out the back, get a cab here. I borrowed money from Jean...I can't even pay it back," Tabitha wiped her cheeks again. "God I feel so stupid."

"You should have called the police...had him put away..." Remy tried.

"Did _you _call the police on your dad?" Tabitha snapped, her eyes squinting.

He fell silent.

"Even if I did, what's to say they're gonna _believe _it? Did they ever believe you?"

He looked away, "We ain' talkin' about me."

"I can't tell the police," Tabitha stated firmly, "if they know, they'll want me to press charges...and go to court..."

"Okay, okay..." he took her by the shoulders and shook her gently.

"I can't tell the Professor...he'd want the same too...and Wolverine...I don't know what he'd do. And if the others knew..." she pulled away from him, "all the eyes lookin' at me like this...dirty little daddy's girl..." she hugged herself, "like I'm stained with this thing...no one looked the _same _way at me the last time, when my dad got arrested. They felt _sorry _for me...I can't...I can't deal with it."

Remy tilted his head, "so what y' gon' do? Just hide out here forever? Never go out? Run from y' friends the first sign of danger?"

"I'll _deal _with it in my own way..."

Remy wasn't sure she _would _deal with it, he was certain she wasn't even capable of it. She was like some wounded bird that kept flying back into the cage whenever it set foot out of it. Remy wanted to tell her she couldn't just keep hiding and avoiding this but he was afraid that it might be slightly hypocritical. If Rogue were here, she'd laugh at him and point out the huge flaw in his argument.

_Rogue, _he realised. She was still in the rec room waiting.

"Dry y' eyes and go get the popcorn," Remy said, trying to sound commanding. "I'm going back through. Just...try t' relax, we'll think of way t' deal with this later. F' now, try t' get it out of y' mind."

Yes, that was about as _helpful _as his advice got, that was about all he knew how to do. Try not to focus on things, try to force them out of his mind.

He tried to ignore the fact that he had to _pass _Jean-Luc in the hallway (avoiding even looking at the bastard's face) and he walked quickly to the rec room. Rogue was sitting curled up at one end of the couch, her expression slightly dark.

"You took your time," Rogue commented to him.

"Yeah, there was bits of ceramic everywhere," Remy shrugged, he dropped onto the opposite end of the couch.

"Why didn't you just let her pick it up?"

"She never picks up after herself, y' shoul' know that by now," Remy commented.

"So why should you pick it up?" Rogue tossed him a strange look.

"Someone has t'," Remy replied, he stared back at his wife. This was aggravating. All he wanted to do right now was spend time alone with her; get right back to what they had been doing, hold each other, talk intimately perhaps. How was that supposed to be possible now?

He supposed it wasn't Tabitha's fault, and she wasn't even to know she _had _interrupted anything at all. He wished Rogue would just let him admit it; he supposed he would always _defy _Rogue and just come out with it.

Right now, Tabitha didn't need to be rejected though; as far as he could tell, Tabitha needed to be around people, people who could help her forget her problems...and he knew exactly how that felt.

Rogue stared at the paused screen of the television, her expression dull.

"How about after midnight I come t' see y' in y' room?" he whispered quietly.

"You think Logan won't hear?" she snorted.

"What if we sneak out...coul' go t' the boathouse," he suggested.

"Moment is gone," Rogue commented, she sighed.

Remy grunted, perhaps it was just as well his erection had gone down pretty quickly after Tabitha had intruded. A few moments later, Tabitha re-entered the rec room, her makeup not even smudged from her tears, a huge bowl of popcorn in her arms. She gave a dazzling smile, so convincing that Remy would have been hard put to believe that she had been crying only five minutes earlier.

Rogue threw a dark look at Remy as Tabitha parked herself between them (almost sitting on Rogue's feet as she did so). Remy sighed and hit the play button to re-start the movie, feeling the sense of hopelessness that Tabitha's appearance had brought. Tabitha's own issues brought up a lot of unhappy things for him, and even trying to pay attention to the movie, his memories kept shifting back to unhappier days.

In the reflection in the television, he could see Jean-Luc standing behind the couch, just a silhouette and nothing more. Remy tried to ignore the hard thudding of his heart, tried to eat as much popcorn as he could and pretend nothing was wrong. It was _all _he could do now.

* * *

><p><strong>End of Part Nine<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Hmm anyone sensing tension? LOL.<strong>

**Thanks so much to those who have taken the time to review the last few parts, it's so nice hearing from all you (especially those to take the time to put so many words down about what you think about the situations and the characters mindsets). So many intelligent and clever things get said sometimes by you guys that I get jealous that I can never seem to word it quite the same in the stories or even to myself in thought (seriously). Anyway, it's a Friday night and I wanted to drop this chapter in before I go watch a DVD and have an early-ish night. I hope you all have a super weekend :)**


	10. Part Ten

**BENEATH THE SURFACE**

**Part Ten**

* * *

><p>For the week and a half, Rogue began to feel herself getting slowly back to normal at home in the mansion. After a few days of <em>easy <em>Danger Room sessions, the training schedule began to get rather challenging. Not only were they challenging, but slightly off-putting, as the Professor was allowing Remy to sit in the control annex to observe. The thought of Remy watching her every time she trained left her feeling uncomfortable, caused her to make mistakes out of nervousness. It had taken a long time for her to get used to the idea of being watched by the instructors, but she hated Remy watching her. She felt _too _studied.

If the Danger Room wasn't challenging enough, her relationship with _Remy _was nigh on impossible. Every moment of every day, he was around people, and even when she tried to get a moment alone with him, there'd be someone there interrupting. With the school year about to begin again within only a week, Rogue was pressed by Hank and the Professor to broach the idea with Remy about high school again while there was still time to get him quickly enrolled.

It was a Tuesday that she finally decided the time had come to talk about it with Remy. She just wasn't sure how to find the time alone with him to broach the subject gently. It was a sensitive subject, she was certain. She didn't want to bring it up in front of the others in case it turned into a rather heated debate about why he felt he _didn't _need to go and she was certain he didn't want people knowing he hadn't finished high school.

After her martial arts training session with Logan, she went up to the kitchen get a drink and it was by luck that she found Remy in there on his own. He was standing at the sink peeling a _lot _of potatoes, listening to the radio, his expression slightly distant.

Rogue stood for a moment, examining the way he made even peeling potatoes look like an art form, peelings flicking across the sink and parts of the counter, he never seemed to even look at the potatoes, just peeled, dumped, and got the next.

"Where's your chore buddy?" Rogue asked, raising an eyebrow. Usually chores like preparing dinner were set in pairs to make such things faster. She moved to the wall where the whiteboard with the chores rota was and noted that Jean was supposed to be helping him. It wasn't like Jean to skip out.

"She's gone to get corncobs from the store...we ran out," Remy turned to look at her, he examined her workout clothes, "Let me guess. Trainin' with y' sugar daddy?"

"Stop that," she warned coolly. The accusations about Logan were not amusing her. She moved over, "Need help with anything?"

"I got it," Remy responded.

"Listen, since we've got a moment," Rogue pulled herself up onto the counter and sat there at his left, "can we talk?"

"I been tryin' t' find some time t' talk with y' all week," Remy commented, "Y' friends keep gettin' in the goddamn way..."

Rogue kept an ear out for any intrusions, it sounded rather quiet, she supposed most of the others had gone to the store with Jean – it usually became a huge outing for junk food whenever someone needed to make a grocery trip. "Yeah, it's...hectic here."

"Y' did warn me, I guess," he said, he tossed a potato into the large pot to his right. "When we gon' get some time f' jus' _us?" _he asked, he eyed her, peeling the next potato swiftly.

"We'll find time soon..." she picked up an unpeeled potato and turned it around in her hands absently.

"Why don' we go out on a date?" he asked.

"What if someone saw?" she pointed out.

"What if?" he asked pointedly. "Y' embarrassed t' be caught goin' out with a no-hoper like me?"

Rogue frowned at him, "of course not."

"Then why we still playing this game?"

"Because Ah'm just not comfortable havin' people know about my private life..." she commented quietly, she stared down at the potato in her hands, "Anyway...you're not a no-hoper," she sighed.

He didn't respond, he tossed the next potato aside and went to the next.

"Have...you given any more thought to goin' to Bayville high?"

"Nice segue," he frowned at her.

"Huh?"

"If I ain' a no-hoper...why woul' y' want me t' go t' that damn place?"

"You're _not _a-" she caught herself from arguing, "look, have you at least _thought _about it?"

He snorted, "no. Why would I? I'm eighteen, an' it's not like I need t' get a diploma t' get a good job. I probably got enough money f' the next fifteen years...and then some..."

"That much?" she asked. She thought he'd only kept enough for a _while, _not for a _lifetime. _If he'd neglected to disclose that much, what else was he _neglecting to disclose?_

"That much," he commented quietly.

"What about when the next fifteen years are up?"

"Then I'll make more," he supposed.

"It's just...Ah mean, don't you think it'd be kind of cool to go to school together...share classes?"

Remy stopped peeling, his expression darkened a little, "how am I supposed t' go to school with eyes like these?" he pointed out.

"Sunglasses...just like Scott. Ah mean...he got away with it. And then everyone knew about us..."

"And y' were all shunned," he reminded.

"Who cares if you're shunned...you'll have us at school. Besides, guys like you always seem to become popular regardless."

"Why is it so important that I go?" he asked seriously.

"Because..." she trailed off, "It'd be nice for you to have one last year of bein' a kid, Ah guess."

He frowned, "the Professor put y' up t' this, didn' he?"

"Of course not," Rogue lied. "Ah just...Ah thought it would be nice to be at school together...we'd at least see each other a little more than we do right now. When Ah go back to school next week-"

"Next _week?" _he asked, looking worried, "school starts that soon?"

"Yes," she replied. "And when it starts...we'll _barely _see each other."

He tossed his peeled potato into the pot of water, it made a huge angry splash. "Fuck," he muttered.

"Remy, Ah told you it'd be like this..."

"It _wouldn't _be if y' jus' be _honest _with people..."

"You think they'd intrude _any _less?" she asked. "They'd probably find it _funny _to make even more of a nuisance of themselves than usual. We'd never get a minutes peace..."

He looked away, "can't help feelin' that y' jus' don' wan' t' tell people 'cause y' ashamed of me," he muttered.

"Ah ain't ashamed of you," she admitted, it being the truth. No, there was nothing shameful about being romantically attached to the boy. He was good looking, charming, strong and clever. She wasn't sure people would say the same thing about _her, _however. She could already picture her friends asking what he saw in _her_.

"Then go out on a date wit' me...let the others _know _about it..."

"Not yet," Rogue touched his shoulder gently, "please...just a little while longer?"

He shook his head, he wasn't happy with this, she could see it. It was getting harder and harder to keep him happy. Every day she saw the frustration building on his face about it, saw the distraction in his eyes that she could do _nothing _to help. Sometimes she longed to just sit beside him in the rec room and take his hand, or tell him how she felt about him in front of the others, but it felt oddly daunting...the idea of being so...public about it. It was uncomfortable being in the same room when Jean and Scott did it, she couldn't imagine being like that herself.

She slipped down from the counter, "at least think about School..." she pleaded of him, "it'd be good for you...even if it's just for a year."

"I don't even know why you're going back," he commented, "seems stupid havin' to redo the year."

At that moment, she couldn't help but think if she agreed with it, it would only help him reinforce his idea that _he _didn't need to go. "Ah thought at first maybe it was stupid but...Ah missed out on a lot of stuff and maybe a lot of it was important...maybe Ah'll need it some day..."

"Yeah," Remy grunted, "Like those stupid math questions that _clearly _gon' make a difference t' y' grown up adult life. Where the fuck y' gon' have t' ask y'self 'If y' have six apples and y' gave Johnny five of them, how many rockets could y' ride t' Mars before Lady Gaga released a hit single and Angelina Jolie adopted a new kid'?"

"Ah _swear _that question was on my last test. It was under 'If you bought eight cookies and gave Susie one, how many grams of cocaine would it take to kill Charlie Sheen'..." Rogue frowned a little. "Oh...come on, sugar..." she said quietly, hoping no one was going to hear. She moved behind him and put her hands gently on his shoulders, squeezing a little, "at least think about it, it'd be nice to go school together...be teenagers together..."

"We're eighteen, Rogue. We're adults..._married _adults," he reminded. "We ain' really high school kids any more."

Rogue stroked her hands gently down his arms, "what about roleplayin'?" she teased.

He turned slowly, raising an eyebrow at her questioningly.

Gently, she traced the band logo name on his t-shirt, trying her best to be a little beguiling, "You always liked a little roleplayin'..."

His eyes followed her fingers on his chest, his expression became just a little feverish. She realised it had been some _time _since they'd been that close. Not since the night they had sat down to watch that movie together...and Tabitha had interrupted.

"Maybe I'm sick of playin' roles, chere..." he admitted quietly, "maybe I jus' want t' be who I am."

"How will you ever know who you are if you don't even _explore _it?" Rogue asked, she tried to smile sweetly, "please..._please..._just think about this."

"How about you think about tellin' people the truth about us, and I think about goin' t' high school?" he asked seriously.

"Remy-"

"If y' like..." he licked his lips, "I can play it _so _innocently, chere...I can ask y' out...in front of _everyone, _make them think it's jus' a general thing. I can _fake _fallin' in love wit' y' f' there benefit. Shoul' be easy...I'm already crazy 'bout you..."

Rogue tilted her head up and stared into his eyes.

"We can make it _look _like it's happenin'..." he explained, "I mean...is _how _it happened why y' so reluctant t' tell them? 'Cause of how it came about?"

She moved away, suddenly feeling a little awkward, "ssh."

"That's it, ain' it? Y' don' want them knowin' that this all happened because I intended t' use y'...that this all happened like an accident 'cause of a favour..."

"How would we explain that?" she snorted, "We got together because you asked me to...to..."

"We _married _'cause I asked y' f' a favour," He moved over to her, "We got t' gether 'cause I _loved _y'...and we stayed t' gether ' cause I still _do..._"

"Ssh!" she said quickly, she pressed her gloved hand to his mouth quickly, her eyes wide.

Remy's eyes shifted to the open doorway; Rogue heard the voices, the footsteps approaching. She didn't expect her to grab her by the waist and swing her into the broom closet nearby, he pushed himself in against her to fit himself with her and pulled the door closed as quietly as he could.

Rogue gasped, his face was inches from hers, his body pressed up against hers, her legs pressed so hard against a galvanised bucket that if she moved she was afraid she'd make a sound. Outside of the door, she could hear the others entering the kitchen, returning from their shopping trip.

"_Where's Gambit gone?" _asked Jean Grey.

Rogue's eyes shifted to the slats in the louvre door of the closet, she could see the colours and movement, but not much else from the angle she was at. Remy's breath tickled against her ear hotly. For a moment she was almost certain he was breathing like that deliberately against her.

"_Probably for more potatoes, looks like he ran out – there's no way this is enough for us all," _came Scott's voice. "_He should have called, we could have picked them up."_

"_There's another bag in the pantry," _Jean stated, there was the sound of the door, "_he probably didn't know...either that or he's gone to answer a phone or something..."_

Rogue turned slowly back to look at Remy; his face was slatted with pale silvery light from the louvre door, she gripped onto his t-shirt, feeling slightly awkward about where to put her hands in this confined space. The heat in the closet was stifling, the closeness of their breath did nothing to help that, made her face feel hot and sweaty. She felt his hand circling her hip, his red irises seemed to glimmer like the facets of rubies catching the light. She swallowed hard, the whole situation brought tension toher gut.

What would Jean and Scott say if they found them like this?

"_Here's the rest of the stuff,"_ came the voice of Kitty Pryde, a moment later, Tabitha Smith and Bobby Drake following suit.

"_Why are we carrying all the heaviest stuff?" _Bobby huffed, "_you could have used your powers!_"

"_If you want the girls to like you, you need to work all those muscles out," _teased Tabitha. "I mean look at your arms right now...I've seen bigger_ knots _in a piece of thread."

"_What is it with you girls and muscles?" _Bobby grunted unhappily, "_I saw the way you and Rahne were making eyes at Gambit at the pool yesterday when he had his shirt off..."_

Rogue gazed at Remy, raising an eyebrow at him, even in the half-darkness, she could see the smirk forming on his face.

Jean wistfully sighed, "_that guy has abs like a stone statue...I mean, they look _diamond cut."

"_Hey!" _Scott complained, "_how come you never talk about my abs like that?"_

_ "I will when they start looking like that," _Jean teased.

"_Did you know he has a tattoo?" _asked Tabitha suddenly.

"_Who?"_

_ "Gambit. I saw it on his hip."_

_ "How did you see that?" _Scott asked a little suspicious.

Rogue frowned at Remy now. _How did she see that?_ she wondered suspiciously.

_ "I saw it when he was coming out of the pool and his shorts slipped a little...I think it was a spade and a heart..."_

_ "Lame,"_ said Bobby, "_if you're gonna get a tattoo, get somethin' cool like...a flaming skull or...a huge dragon..."_

"_I dunno, it was kind of cute. I wonder if it means anything," _Tabitha said casually.

Rogue took in a deep breath, the smell of Remy's cologne was thick in the closet, filling her senses, the heat felt as if it were starting to swallow her, there was very little ventilation coming in through those slats. Remy's hand was against her backside and she wasn't all that sure if she wanted him to _remove _it.

_How long are they all gonna be in the kitchen?_ Rogue thought in panic, Remy leaned near her ear and breathed the words, "I'm real hard..." so very quietly she was barely sure _she _heard it. Her cheeks flushed hotter, her entire _body _flushed at the thought. She turned to gaze out of the slats, her chest rising and falling quickly. He wasn't joking, she felt him against her hip.

"_Do you think we can really trust him?" _Bobby asked after a moment.

Rogue swallowed hard, Remy was kissing her clothed shoulder, his hand squeezed her backside, she felt him trying to pull her towards him to close the (very small) gap between their bodies.

"_I don't know," _Kitty admitted after a moment, "_Lance always said he was kind of...I don't know...untrustworthy..." _

"_You're taking that from Lance?" _laughed Tabitha. "_He's not the best judge of character, really."_

Remy's teeth bit gently into her shoulder, she felt it through the cloth of her sweatshirt and she gasped a little, she could _feel _exactly what he was doing through the thin cotton, gently rolling his mouth over the curve of her shoulder, pulling gently against the flesh. She didn't want to even admit to herself it didn't feel _unpleasant._

The closet was _no place _for this kind of behaviour, her stomach was fluttering with the possibility that they might be caught. _If someone spills somethin' and needs a mop...what then?_

"_He...is sort of shady...sort of," _supposed Scott, "_he doesn't really talk too much...and if he does it's all really...vague or general. I don't think I've ever heard him talk about anything personal...he won't talk about where he came from or what his background is or anything. And lets not forget...he's a criminal..."_

"_I think he's okay, really," _Tabitha admitted.

_"I don't know," _sighed Scott, _"I have nothing against the guy, but I just...don't know if I do trust him yet."_

_ "He's just...you know, like a lot of us...he did some bad things to make ends meet, to put a roof over his head...he isn't that different," _said Tabitha.

_ "Lets hope you're right..."_ Kitty replied.

"_Keep an eye out for any kind of weird behaviour...I mean...anything goes missing, you see him in _any _of the rooms or basements without the right access," _Scott said quietly, _"let me know. Just because Rogue thinks he's okay and the Professor thinks he's sound doesn't mean he's a hundred percent."_

_ "I think you're kind of...I don't know...making him out to be a bad guy and he's not," _Tabitha admitted.

_ "Maybe he's not, but we'll keep an eye out anyway," _promised Kitty, _"_anyway, I'm gonna go call my parents."

"_Wanna play Call of Duty?" _Bobby asked Tabitha.

"_Not if you're gonna be a little bitch about it again,"_ Tabitha muttered.

Rogue listened closely as three sets of footsteps descended away from the kitchen, she held onto Remy's t-shirt, her chest rising and falling quickly, sweat was starting to trickle down her nose. She could hear the sounds of Scott and Jean putting groceries away; she hoped to god neither of them had anything to put away in the broom closet.

_If there's cleanin' supplies in any of those bags, we're fucked, _Rogue realised. She gasped a little, Remy bit down a little too hard, she was almost certain it was for the reaction. She wondered if for a moment he actually _hoped _she'd cry out so they did get caught.

"_Jean?" _Scott asked after a few moments.

"_Hmm?" _Jean asked, she sounded a little distant.

"_You didn't answer when Bobby asked about Gambit,_" Scott said quietly.

"_Oh," _Jean said.

"_What do you think about him?" _Scott asked curiously.

_ "I don't think anything about him," _Jean replied.

"_Other than your appreciation of his _diamond cut _abs?" _Scott snorted.

Remy chuckled under his breath, Rogue smacked him.

"Ssh!" she warned quietly.

"_Stop being so jealous. You have a much nicer body..." _Jean said, Rogue had the sense she was humouring her boyfriend.

"_Seriously though," _Scott sighed, "_you ever pick anything up from him?"_

_ "Nothing," _Jean replied.

Rogue tried to ignore that from the way Remy had snaked his hand right behind her backside that he could twist his arm around enough to get enough access to press his fingers between her legs from behind. She bit into her lip at the touch, now she was almost _certain _he wanted to get them caught.

"_How can you say you pick up nothing. You pick up bits and pieces from people all day..."_

_ "Not from from him..." _Jean admitted, "_he's...difficult...most people are like...open books...or magazines...every now and then a rogue wind may stir the pages, and I might get a look at the pages...might see pictures and paragraphs...but with him...I just _don't._"_

_ "You don't?"_

Remy smirked at Rogue, he pressed his fingers a little harder against her, she drew her breath in sharply, it sounded loud to her and she hoped to god that it was _not _audible over the sound of the radio and Scott and Jean's moving items around in the kitchen.

_"He's like one of those books you see behind a glass case in a museum, Scott..." _Jean continued, "_no random breeze will ever push those pages open...you can't get close enough to see the pages that are open, and he won't open the case. I just can't read him...he's carefully guarded."_

Rogue gripped onto Remy's t-shirt more tightly, his touch was unbearable and at the same time, seemingly so very urgently _necessary._ Remy kept going and Rogue anxiously listened to the sounds of Scott and Jean putting groceries away, not knowing if she'd be trapped in this closet for all eternity. If they didn't finish soon, she wasn't sure how long she'd be able to hold herself together. The sensations, his sublime deliberate touch, it was making her tremble, and she had to keep biting her lip harder to refrain from crying out.

_Ah'm gonna smack him when we get out of this, _she thought desperately, fingers clutching at his t-shirt so hard she was sure she was stretching the fabric.

"_That's the last of it_."

"_Wonder where Gambit's gone to," _Scott wondered aloud.

"_I thought I sensed him nearby a few moments ago but it's gone. He must be somewhere..." _Jean responded, she sounded almost bored. "_Want to play some pool before dinner_?"

"_Only if you stop using your powers to steer the balls in your favour," _Scott mumbled.

"_I only did that once and it was only because _you _were being a show off," _Jean laughed, "_come on."_

The sounds of their footsteps seemed to disappear from the kitchen after a moment, Rogue reached for the handle on the inside of the closet, Remy caught her hand with his free one and stopped her, he pushed her further back into the closet, the bucket at her feet clanged a little at the movement; she gasped a little as he pushed himself up against her, pulling her leg up so that she was able to use the upturned bucket to prop her foot up; he led her hand to the hanging rail above (it had once been a coat closet) and he began grinding himself against her with furious urgency, his breathing heavy, his expression dark with lust...

She hated that it was the thought of _that _look in this dim light, the unpredictability of this all, and perhaps even the danger of possibly being caught that sent her right over the edge. She grasped onto him with her free arm, letting him do what he wanted, heart hammering madly, she had to bite down on her lip so hard she tasted a little blood. Her body _ached _as the first tremors came, muscles in spasm almost painfully, warm rushes of pleasure washing over her. Remy was spent fairly quickly to follow, faster than she'd have given him credit for. He leaned against her in the closet, breath hot and heavy, it seemed to shake and vibrate against her naked ear. His body seemed to rumble a little against her, she felt it as he held onto her tightly. She felt his heart thundering through her hand pressed against his back.

What had happened on the yacht...it had been _nothing _compared to that moment. The frustration coming to a head, perhaps the absence of any real time spent together was what had given it that power. Remy pulled away from her, pushing the door open and stepping out; she felt so weak kneed that she almost collapsed out of it and she had to grab onto the door frame for a moment to hold herself up.

Remy said absolutely nothing, he went back to the sink and began washing his hands; he was so quiet and oddly comfortable. Slightly embarrassed, red faced and sweating, Rogue made her way out of the kitchen and headed off upstairs to take a _cold _shower, she felt quite dirty (and what was worse, she felt oddly satisfied about it too).

* * *

><p>"How long does it take <em>you <em>to peel potatoes?"

Remy blinked himself out of the reverie he'd been in, lost in the moment, he realised he must have been standing there at the sink holding the same potato for almost twenty minutes (judging by the clock on the windowsill), the thing hadn't been peeled yet. He turned slowly to gaze at Tabitha who was standing at his side, looking at him quizzically.

"Sorry?"

"I _said _how long does it _take you to peel potatoes, _Gambit," Tabitha folded her arms, a slight smirk playing about her painted red lips.

"Oh..." he shook his head, "sorry..."

"Ororo asked me to come put them on the boil but they're not even _done _yet..." Tabitha pointed out.

"Sorry," he said again.

"You're not just there to be pretty, you know, you have to _work _for your food here," Tabitha teased, she playfully ran her index finger along his jaw.

He shifted away from her touch, he couldn't explain why that touch felt a little uncalled for and unwelcome. His mind was still too clogged with thoughts of sex, too distracted with the fresh and satisfying memory of Rogue in the hot sticky darkness of the closet. Tabitha's touch somehow only made him think of it more, made her touch so inappropriate somehow.

Remy felt rather smug with himself about the closet; it had been a rather fulfilling moment, and perhaps even just a little amusing. In a way he supposed he _should _hate himself for putting Rogue in that position right then, knowing how _afraid _she'd been of being caught. But the moment had taken him, the closeness, the way her breath had been shuddering against his lip, the strangely pleasant smell of her sweat from her workout mixed with her slightly musky body spray. And then there was the proximity...

Jean-Luc couldn't touch them in there, there was no room for _him _right then. For a moment, regardless of who was on the other side of the door, or whomever was moving about in the kitchen, regardless of who had been talking on the other side of that louvre door...it had just been _him _and _Rogue. _

Chances like that were impossible in this place, and he wasn't going to ignore the opportunity. Rogue on the other hand...well...she had opportunity to ignore it, but he'd had her _right _where he wanted her. If she left the closet, she'd blow their cover. It was up to her right then if _she _wanted to do that and he'd known she wasn't about to. However, had she _tried _to leave the closet _after _the others had left the kitchen...he wouldn't have stopped her.

_She didn' leave it though...she could have pushed me off._

Yes, there was no doubt in his mind that at that moment, he had _completely _and _successfully _seduced her. It wasn't like the yacht, it wasn't awkward and uncertain, there had been a burning heat this time, a passion with fiery urgency, something he hadn't fully felt with her before. He'd wanted her before, but not like that, not _immediately, _not _regardless _of what was happening and where they were. For just those brief moments, he'd almost felt like _himself _again, like the Remy LeBeau he'd been before Jean-Luc had ever tried to arrange his marriage to Bella Donna, before his life had been turned upside down by death and despair.

"Gammmmmmmbit..."

He shook himself out of the thoughts, realising he'd drifted away from what he was meant to be doing once again, he blinked and gazed at Tabitha, "Hmm?"

"What's up with you today?" her turquoise eyes squinted a little, "You were like...a gazillion miles away right then..."

"Oh...that," he shook his head, "Just thinkin' about things, I guess."

"Oh?" she leaned on the counter, watching him peeling the last few potatoes in the sink.

"I..." he faltered, trying to find a good excuse. He racked his brains, tried to make himself seem hesitant about talking about something, as if it were awkward, embarrassing to bring up. Then he remembered what Rogue had been talking about before the closet.

Oh...that closet...it was going to be _very _hard to ever look at that door again without thinking of how it had felt...without thinking of the look on Rogue's face at that orgasmic moment.

"You what?"

He kicked himself mentally, "I...the Professor wants me t' go t' Bayville high," he finally said, trying to make it sound as if this had been bothering him. He'd very rarely ever given it any thought at all but he needed the excuse. He wished he didn't have to make up excuses any more.

"He does?" Tabitha chewed her lip, "didn't you ever graduate?"

"Nah," he said quietly, "left early, guess it never really suited me. Don't know why anyone would ever want t' go t' _Bayville _High..."

"It's not so bad," Tabitha shrugged.

"Y' think so?"

"I used to think it was kind of lame," she shrugged, "I mean, I still do, _kind of."_

Remy turned to examine her, her expression was slightly conflicted.

"But...it was the one place I could get...you know...away."

Taking a breath, Remy sighed. He'd never seen school as a place to _escape _before. Even when his troubles had _really _begun, school was just the place to go _between _the misery.

"It's...you know, a place to be _normal, _not a mutant in training, not saving the world or being a petty crook..." she chewed her lip thoughtfully, then looked at him curiously, "How come you didn't graduate? Did you just leave or...did something happen?"

"I..." Remy sighed, "Look...it's..." he lowered his eyes, "can we talk about this another time?" he finished peeling the last potato and dropped it into the pot.

"You brought it up."

"Yeah, but it weren't an invite t' ask," he pointed out.

"Why is it you think that I won't _get _it?" Tabitha asked aloud,"I _know _what it's like, Gambit. We're _cut _from the same cloth, practically, you know..."

"Ssh," he warned her, he pointed the peeler towards her, "what I tol' you...it was in the _strictest confidence," _he hissed, "I don' _need _people 'roun' here knowin' about my shit..."

Tabitha sighed frustratedly, "so it's okay for you to ask _me-"_

"Look, I was tryin' to help-" he explained helplessly.

"And you think I'm _not?" _

_ "_I don' _need _anyone's help, Tabitha," he said firmly, "I'm _fine."_

_ "Fine, _huh?" Tabitha snorted, she headed towards the table casually, a random almost sway to her pace, "so _fine _that the idea of even going to high school freaks you out."

"It doesn'."

"So go," Tabitha said, "if there's nothing to be afraid of, why not just grin and bear it like the _rest _of us do."

Remy lowered his eyes to the counter, he frowned.

"I mean...what is it? Do you think you're not _smart enough _or something?" she asked bluntly.

"I know I'm smart enough," he replied, secretly doubting he was. Sometimes the subject matter he'd seen Rogue and her friends studying at the school when he'd been spying for Magneto had left him questioning his own intelligence, half of the subjects they were studying he wasn't even familiar with. He was smart enough to go to Bayville High, yes, but not smart enough to _graduate _without cheating his way through it. High school would just be like every other heist or con he'd ever taken on...he'd have to fake his way through it.

"That you won't fit in?" Tabitha asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I don' care if I fit in or not, I used t' have everyone stare at me at the last school I was at," he commented quietly.

The blonde stood at the table, "teacher did something?"

_Does doin' the teacher count? _he wondered.

Remy grunted, "the potatoes are done, go boil them. I've got shit t' do," he gestured to the potatoes which still needed to be rinsed and boiled.

Tabitha moved over to the pot and turned on the faucet to rinse them in the pot, "you know, if you go to school, it'd be _easier _for you than being here."

"How?"

"You'll be sitting here alone all day," Tabitha supposed, "at least at School you'll be in classes with like...I don't know, probably Kurt or Rogue..." she shrugged, "hanging out at Lunch, going to games, you could even be lame and do prom. Or be lame like Rogue and Kitty and do drama club. I mean...it's what high school is for, right? To do stupid stuff."

"What about the _learnin'?" _he asked pointedly.

"What about it? You said it yourself, you're smart. What do you have to lose?_"_

_ "_Boil the potatoes, Tabitha," Remy sighed, he wiped his hands off on a dish towel, "I'm done with the subject."

"Yeah, by the way," Tabitha moved her hand around in the cold water full of potatoes, "you might want to change your pants."

"Pardon?" he blinked.

"You got water on them, it looks like you've peed yourself," Tabitha turned on the faucet to fill the pot with water.

Remy lowered his eyes to his crotch; he'd been tolerating the uncomfortable feeling of his encounter with Rogue because he hadn't wanted to have to run upstairs and change just to continue peeling the potatoes. He hadn't realised it would seep right through. He grimaced, "yeah...splashed on me a bit when I was washin' off the dirt from the potatoes..." he sighed, he tugged his t-shirt down a little to hide it.

"Better change fast before Bobby gets sight of it, or you'll be 'Mr. Piss Pants' all year."

"Yeah. Thanks for the advice," Remy responded, rolling his eyes, glad that she'd _assumed _it was water and not anything else.

* * *

><p><strong>End of Part Ten<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>A nice little start of the week bit of Romy naughtiness for you all just to make Monday easier (this story is kind of dark and does get darker so it's important to have them now and then). The closet idea came rather suddenly and unexpectedly and I wasn't sure I'd leave it in; it seemed like something Gambit would do (slightly underhanded and a little self-serving I suppose, but not completely unsatisfying for his wife).<strong>

**I really appreciate all the reviews I've gotten lately, some very interesting thoughts, especially regarding Remy's friendship with Tabitha. I've never really written her before like this and I don't know the character all that well so it's quite new for me. Tricky to try and make her likeable while obviously she might be a bit of a complication for some people. I don't want her to be the next 'Rowan Renz' and make her into someone people hate (that's what Magma is for, j/k...a little). Some interesting thoughts from Me Voila about Remy's sense of 'owing' people (so many nails being hit on the head here, lol).**

**Anyway, a small update to start the week, and now off I go to work on part 26. Love you all, have a great week :)**


	11. Part Eleven

**BENEATH THE SURFACE**

**Part Eleven**

* * *

><p>Rogue was late getting to the dinner table; she'd been playing about with the new iPhone Remy had bought her, downloading music onto it, and had rather easily lost all track of time; she hadn't even thought to look at the time stamp at the top of the display. She'd been feeling almost in a strange sort of haze ever since the closet, hating to admit to herself that afterwards, once the initial <em>shock <em>of it happening at all had left her, that she felt a strange sort of blissful release that she hadn't experienced before.

Anxiety about her relationship with Remy, the strain his mood swings had put on her in the past month...it all had seemed to melt away, leaving her oddly content as she sat there playing music while reliving the moment over and over in her head. It didn't matter _what _song or album she downloaded, _everything _kept making her think of the closet, regardless if it was Morissey, Meatloaf or Metallica. Every lyric took her there, every beat and twang. It was the Afterglow she'd heard people talk about on television but she'd never truly _believed _in.

Until now, really.

When she finally got to the table, she felt slightly dismayed to find the only seat left was _right _beside Remy. She stood for a second examining him sitting there calmly, eating meatloaf, expression serene. She still had rather vivid paintings of him in her memory, his fevered expression and the look on his face at that _last _moment. She could still almost feel the _exact _way he had pressed against her. She drew her breath, cheeks flushing at the thought of being in close proximity with him again. Normally, she _wouldn't _sit so close to him with so many in the room, but there was little choice in this matter. If she _didn't _sit it would be _far _more suspicious than if she _did_.

"Where were you?" Scott asked. "Called your name three times."

"Ah had earphones in," Rogue replied feebly, she moved to take her seat, trying to act as natural as she could, "Sorry."

"Hank made his famous Meatloaf," Jean passed the serving dish over, there was very little of it left, but Rogue supposed it what _was _left would have to suffice. It was her own fault for being late. "It _nearly _all got claimed, but we managed to save you some."

"It's good," Remy admitted at Rogue's left, he chewed thoughtfully for a moment, his eyes never leaving his plate, "Not as good as yours though."

Rogue turned and stared at Remy, more blood rushed to her cheeks, she felt like she was on _fire_ with it. She lowered her eyes to her plate as she served the food, trying to somehow act as if _nothing _was bothering her; she suddenly did _not _feel all that hungry.

"Rogue makes meatloaf?" Kitty gave a vague laugh, "I find that hard to believe."

Trying to act as _natural _as she could, Rogue spooned herself out some mashed potatoes, all the while resisting the urge to elbow her husband in the ribs. Or stab him with her _fork._

"Oh, she make a good meatloaf," Remy commented, the way he said it was so _general, but _Rogue was afraid it was going to give something away all the same. "Nice _moist_ sticky meatloaf..."

Rogue swallowed hard, she pushed her fork into the mashed potatoes, she felt slightly ill.

"Like all southern girls, she likes a lil' meat..." Remy continued.

_Oh god, he's tryin' to embarrass me, _Rogue realised in dismay.

"Anyone want some more carrots?" asked Kitty, she passed the dish after practically _filling _her plate with them. Her vegetarian platter didn't seem all that filling in Rogue's opinion.

"Don' mind if I do," Remy accepted the serving dish, he spooned a few out onto his plate, "how about you, chere?" he turned to Rogue, raising an eyebrow, "I know y' like carrots...although these may be a little overcooked..."

"They're not overcooked," Kitty said confusedly.

"Look a little limp t' me," Remy responded, "t' my knowledge, Rogue prefers 'em a little firmer..."

Bobby suddenly laughed, "I get it."

"You get _what?" _Jean asked carefully.

"Rogue can't cook vegetables...she serves stuff raw," Bobby shrugged.

Rogue turned and threw Remy a look as Bobby distracted them with his naïvete. She'd almost expected Bobby to _get _the innuendo. _"Stop it!"_ she mouthed quietly to Remy.

Remy seemed to chuckle silently to himself and began digging into his meal.

_Ah'm gonna kill him when this is over, _Rogue thought angrily. She eyed the table, almost wondering why Logan hadn't said anything, then she realised he was not even present; the Professor was in the slot Logan usually sat at, the chair Logan usually sat in was pushed against the broom closet door.

_God, Ah can't even look at that door, _Rogue thought, her body heating up, eyes quickly moving from the sight of it.

"Where's Logan?" she asked, trying to distract herself.

"He went to some poker game or something," Scott commented.

Rogue thought it was no wonder Remy seemed so _relaxed _at the table tonight more than usual, why he was so content to sit and make jokes that he normally wouldn't with Logan sitting right there.

"Professor," said Remy, "I...was thinkin' 'bout what we talked about a few weeks back..." he leaned back in his chair, picking up his glass of water.

"And what might that be?" the Professor asked, gazing up from his meal.

"About maybe goin' t' Bayville High."

Rogue turned and looked at Remy questioningly, somewhat surprised. He'd been so reluctant only three hours ago...what had changed?

"Fantastic," spoke up Hank from the other end of the table, "there's still time to enroll you before the start of school – and to get you all the appropriate supplies."

"And you should go clothes shopping," said Tabitha, looking over at Remy. Rogue couldn't help but feel there was almost the tiniest hint of a smug smile on the blonde's pretty face.

"Yeah," Kitty agreed, "You seem to have like...the same two or three shirts that you just wear over and over..."

Remy scoffed, "y' mean jus' like the same cotton candy coloured cardigan that seems t' be surgically attached t' y' back?"

"Burn!" called Jamie enthusiastically.

"Shut up! I have _three _cardigans this colour..."

"Yeah, and they're all the same," Tabitha teased.

"Yeah, if they suck so much why did you steal one of them?" Kitty raised an eyebrow at the blonde.

"I gave it back...its...in the laundry somewhere," Tabitha shrugged. By the sounds of it, Rogue wasn't particularly sure Tabitha knew at _all _where that cardigan had gone.

"Yeah well, you better find it and get it back where you found it," Kitty warned.

"Same with my jeans," Amara spoke up, "I haven't seen them back yet."

"I'll get to it," Tabitha assured.

Rogue felt something touch her thigh and she froze in her seat; Remy's fingers were tentatively sliding up the inside of her leg. She turned to frown at him but he was feigning perfect innocence. No one would have suspected as he sat there drinking his water, and then picking his fork to eat his carrots that his fingers were inching further up Rogue's left thigh.

Swiftly, when everyone at the table was busy arguing about Tabitha's habit of stealing and not returning their clothes, Rogue smacked his hand away roughly. She tried to force a normal unaffected expression, even when his hand just went right back again.

His hand got _very _close to the place just _three hours _ago it had been before. She grabbed his fingers quickly, curling them around his and holding them tightly to stop him from going any further, her chest thrumming anxiously at the thought he might touch her, that she might cry out or gasp at the table, that it might all come out right then.

_He's playin' games, _Rogue realised in fury. She kept eating, not even hungry, stomach flipping a little. She felt his thumb gently massaging her hand just over her suedette glove. She allowed a brief glance towards him in everyone's distraction as the dinner table topic turned to what show was on cable that night and who had priority to pick what they watched. Remy's eyes met with hers and softened, they were no longer quite as playful nor as teasing.

Swallowing her nerves, trying to ignore how his touch – even just his _hand – _suddenly left her feeling weak and defenceless, she spoke to him. "What changed your mind about school?" she asked quietly.

"Might be nice...havin' lunch wit' friends...bein' in class wit' friends..." he said low under his breath.

"And you can go to prom," pointed out Rahne.

"Prom is lame," Rogue muttered bitterly. She hadn't gone to the last prom, she _hadn't _been invited by anyone. And anyway, a mission had come up right around that time, there hadn't been any _chance _to go even if she had.

"Y' wouldn' wan' dress up all fancy?" Remy gazed to her questioningly, "ain' that every girl's dream?"

"Not mine."

"I can jus' picture it..." Remy snorted.

"Picture what?" Kurt asked, raising a furry eyebrow.

"Rogue...in a big poofy dress...lots of silk, toulle and sequins..." Remy looked Rogue up and down for a moment, "hair up in a tiara...makeup...not like it is now, but subtle...delicate...maybe a little fake tan jus' t' give her a glow..." he broke his hand away from hers to almost absently circle the tip of his finger around the rim of his drinking glass.

Rogue was immediately reminded of her wedding dress, of the tiara and veil she'd worn, of the makeup and the fake tan and the hair that had taken so long to curl and pin. She was almost _certain _it was _exactly _what Remy was picturing.

Tabitha laughed, Rogue hated that Tabitha sounded so thoroughly amused about it. She hated that the _others _laughed too. They could no more imagine it than Rogue had been able to herself until the day she'd found herself standing there _looking _at herself in the mirror dressed in that way.

"Prom is _lame,_" Rogue repeated angrily, looking away from him, furious he was _encouraging_ the subject.

"Aww..." Remy chuckled, "Y' see, she's only mad 'cause she ain' ever been invited..."

"Shut up," Rogue warned him, throwing him a look.

"Never had anyone pin a corsage on her, never had anyone rent her a limo, bring her punch..." Remy smirked.

"Stop it," Rogue frowned.

"That's enough, Gambit," Scott said commandingly, "You're making her uncomfortable."

"Sorry," Remy said, he gave a sigh, "I'm jus' playin'. He slung an arm around Rogue's shoulders almost the way a drunken man might throw his arm around a drinking buddy, "Don' worry, cherie, Remy will take y' t' y' prom, so y' don' got t' go stag."

"Wow, look at her face, it's goin' all red," Rahne chuckled from the far end of the table.

"That's enough, please quiet down and eat your dinner," the Professor said, his expression knitting in a slightly displeased frown.

Rogue pushed Remy's arm away from her, "don't do me any favours, Cajun."

"Ouch, shot down," Remy sighed, "what it is it about me that girls don' like?"

"Your lack of decorum?" Rogue supposed coldly.

"I'll go with you to prom, Gambit," Tabitha offered.

"Yeah, she'll go..." Amara snorted, "long as you're paying for her dress, shoes and the limo."

Tabitha threw a look to Amara, "shut up!"

"Oh, I'm sorry, is that supposed to be a _secret_ how you could suddenly all those new clothes?" Amara asked snootily, "'cause one day you were taking all our stuff, and the next you had a two hundred dollar jacket...weirdly after the _same _day you and Gambit went shopping."

Tabitha's cheeks went red, Rogue hadn't expected the girl to look genuinely embarrassed or upset about some stupid accusation about something that Rogue doubted could be true. Remy wasn't about to go buying a two hundred dollar jacket for a girl he barely knew.

"And what about the pairs of fifty dollar jeans? And those Doc Martin boots you're wearing! I _know _they cost like a hundred bucks..."

"Enough," warned the Professor.

"I'm just saying-" Amara began.

"Enough," warned the Professor again, "where the money for Tabitha's clothing came from is _not _your concern, now quieten down and eat your dinner – or you can go to your room. The choice is yours."

Amara frowned but said nothing and went back to eating; her expression was foul all the same.

Rogue turned to Remy, expecting him to look back at her and try to give her some kind of indication this was a misunderstanding or a lie. Instead, he was looking at Tabitha, expression somewhat worried and guilty.

Tabitha sniffed, she seemed to compose herself, she sat up straight, took a large drink from her glass of water, burped unceremoniously (Rogue felt it was somewhat deliberately to alleviate the tension at the table) then said, "okay, you know what, I'll _admit it._ I borrowed money from Gambit. So what. I borrow money from _everyone."_

Remy dropped his eyes to his plate, he looked a little dismayed that she had _admitted _it. Rogue had to hide her absolute dismay at the revelation. Had this been some kind of _secret? _Why the hell was he buying Tabitha clothes? Why was he even _associating _himself with the girl? She was trouble...always had been.

"I'll pay everyone back...eventually, when I land on my feet," Tabitha said.

"Can you land on your feet any time soon?" asked Bobby, trying to lighten the situation, "'cause I kind of need my twenty bucks back so I can afford to go bowling tomorrow."

Tabitha gave a vague laugh, "Yeah...that's...not gonna happen."

The dinner was tense after this, and although general conversation was made it felt somewhat static, never went anywhere, stunted by moments of dense silence and awkward glances. At the end of dinner, Rogue went to do the dishes as per her turn on the rota; she stood for some time sorting through dishes (plates first, always, pots and pans filled with water and left to soak and steep). Bobby was supposed to be helping her but had disappeared off somewhere, he'd _said _he was going to the bathroom, and that had been twenty minutes ago.

"Y' need a hand?"

Rogue looked over her shoulder awkwardly, arm deep in dishsoap, Remy was standing at the door looking strangely sheepish. The smart-mouthed jerk he'd been at dinner, the dirty-minded jerk he'd been in the closet – he'd gone again. It was if that guy had paid a flying visit and then swiftly left.

"Bobby is supposed to be helping me," she rubbed her shoulder against her cheek, feeling a little lather against it.

"Yeah, he's upstairs trying to fix the broken toilet."

"What broken toilet?" Rogue raised an eyebrow. "We don't _have _a broken toilet."

"We do now."

"What'd he do?"

"He froze the boys toilet on the second floor...him and Jamie are standin' over it with hairdryers tryin' t' thaw it out...y' really don' wan' see what's in the block of ice at the bottom of it right now...and y' definitely don' wan' be there when the hot air hits it," Remy walked over, he grabbed a dish towel from the counter, "I'll dry."

Rogue stared into the water, she tried to focus on scrubbing the dishes, trying to bite her tongue about Tabitha and the clothes. She almost made it through three entire minutes until she finally couldn't stand not knowing.

"I want to know-"

Remy interrupted before she could even finish the sentence, "she...didn' come with any clothes, I guess."

"You guess?"

"She had hardly anythin'...didn' have the money."

"That's sort of _her _problem, isn't it?" Rogue frowned.

"Y' don' get it," Remy shook his head, he picked up one of the wet soapy plates she'd removed from the sink and he began drying it.

"No, you don't get it," Rogue replied, "she does this sort of thing all the time, comes and goes, she never brings anything with her, she takes all our stuff, ruins it or just never returns it...she borrows money to buy shit...she _never _pays anythin' back."

"Rogue, she had _nothin', _what was I meant to do?"

"Let her go to the Professor."

"Maybe she didn' _wan' _go t' the Professor."

"But she went to you?" Rogue snapped.

"I _asked _her, alright?" Remy retorted, "She never _asked _me f' nothin'. Y' think I'm not observant enough t' be able t' tell when someone ain' got hardly nothin' of their own? Saw her wearin' the same t-shirt three days in a row...Kitty's cardigan, Amara's jeans. She had _your _shoes on – the ones I bought y'. I knew right then she didn' have _nothin' _of her own except what she had walked in wit'. So I brought it up...she didn' want anyone knowin'...she was _embarrassed."_

_ "_That girl does _not _embarrass," Rogue muttered.

"Y' ever _been _that down and out, Rogue?" Remy frowned at her, "Y' ever had not _two _nickels t' rub t' gether and been wearin' the same clothes for a week? Y' know how fuckin' _humiliatin' _it is?"

Rogue blinked at him.

"She didn' _want _t' go to the Professor, simple as that. Maybe she wanted a lil' _dignity,_ who knows. That's her business. I offered her the money, I took her, I bought the shit on my card – I got _more _than enough t' cover it."

"Why didn't you _tell _me?"

"Y' weren' even _here," _Remy pointed out, "Y' was away in godknowswhere, middle of fuckin' Germany or whatever...and besides which..." he stared down at her almost angrily, "why shoul' I _have _t' declare it?"

"You just _should," _Rogue retorted quickly.

"Why?" he asked flatly.

"What if everyone _had _known, Remy?" Rogue demanded. "What then?! That kind of thing comes out at the table, suddenly everyone is wonderin' why you're buyin' this _hot blonde _all these nice things when you're _supposed _to be with me! God, if they had _known _about us, do you know how it would _look?! _How _stupid _Ah would look?"

"Y' care too much about what people think," Remy huffed.

Rogue squinted at him, "and you _don't?"_

"Right now, pretty much I don't give a fuck," Remy threw her a dirty look; his eyes moved behind her, he looked at something, his expression seemed to become angrier, more hurt. He tossed the dish towel away,"Y' know, fuck this, I don't need this right now."

"You're just gonna walk away?"

"Yes," Remy muttered, "until _you _apologise."

"Why should _Ah _apologise?" Rogue gaped at him.

"Because _you _are in the wrong here, and y' know it," he accused. "Where y' get off tellin' me how t' spend my money? I thought the whole thing about the X-Men was we were here t' _help _people...first _selfless _thing I do and y' on my back like fuckin' acne. I don' _need _it."

Rogue watched as he left the room practically stomping, she stared after him in dismay. The entire exchange had somehow felt strangely immature, and she'd been completely aware of it. At the same time, the entire situation stung too. It hurt that he had not told her, had not tried to _warn _her or tell her about it, it hurt that it had come out at the table, and it hurt that he seemed to think she had no right to be angry about it.

In her opinion she had every right to be angry. Her _husband _was gifting things to a pretty blonde who had a rather notable reputation at Bayville High as being rather _easy. _

_ That's why he didn't tell me, _she realised, her stomach churning. _He knew Ah would be mad, he deliberately kept it from me because he knew how it'd look. Maybe if he'd at least _tried _to be honest..._

Rogue tried to calm herself down and focus on the dishes, she had piles to get through, and no help; Remy had walked out instead of doing as he'd offered. It didn't matter, she'd rather do this alone than have the icy tension thick between them through the chore. She'd rather do it _alone _than have him stand there waiting for an apology that she definitely _wasn't _intending to offer.

* * *

><p>Remy stared at the walls of his bedroom, the half-finished paint job that he was steadily hating more and more. He couldn't bring himself to finish it because he didn't even <em>want <em>to see the end result and feel almost as if he would have to live with it. He didn't want to have to paint the room a third time and look at the mistake of it all.

Right there, in the corner, standing hovering, hands clasped in front of his belt, Jean-Luc stood, his expression dark and dangerous; there was a disturbing look in his eyes, the kind of look reserved for _those _particular nights when he was younger.

Remy shook his head, "No. Y' ain' there," he refused. "I buried y'...y' six feet fuckin' under, burnin' in hell."

Always there but never a word uttered. He'd been there in the kitchen with Rogue, standing watching the argument, looking almost amused, like he'd _wanted _that argument to happen. He was everywhere, every day, it didn't matter what was happening. He was always there.

Remy should have felt almost _accustomed _to seeing it by now, but each time it got worse. The vision seemed to get more and more distorted, decayed. The heaviness in the room got worse, Remy could feel it weighing him down like tar.

Quietly, he left the room, trying to be calm, trying to ignore the feeling of Jean-Luc's eyes following him. He crossed the hall and opened the linen closet pushed himself in to the tight space, he pulled the door shut and sat down upon the floor on top of a full basket of sheets. He cradled his head in his hands, afraid he really may be going insane. He sat there for what felt like an hour in the thick, stuffy darkness of the closet, there was only a crack of light beneath the door to cut through it and it wasn't even enough to see anything in the closet. If by some miracle Jean-Luc could fit in the closet, Remy wouldn't have seen him. He didn't feel the alcohol breath brushing against his face, couldn't smell the foul odour of whiskey and gin.

Sitting there, he tried to focus on nothing but the time in the closet with Rogue, the only time in _weeks_ he'd felt anything remotely close to _happy. _It'd been the only time in weeks he supposed he'd been close to feeling _anything _other than hopelessness. Now Rogue was mad at him, but what was worse was that he felt she didn't even have the right to.

He wished he could have explained about Tabitha, about the problems with her father, about _why _she'd had nothing. But he couldn't betray the girl...he _knew _how difficult it could be, how _horrible _it was to have people knowing. He knew how humiliating and soul destroying it was to have those secrets and constantly be on edge _someone _was going to find out. He knew how _afraid _Tabitha was that people would look at her differently, because he felt that way too. It was one of the reasons he still couldn't tell Rogue face to face about how bad things had been sometimes. She'd never look at him the same.

Sometimes he wondered if it'd be easier to break up than to ever _tell _her about it. If it would _hurt _less. Breaking up with her for any reason would destroy him, but it'd still be a thousand times less hurtful than _telling _her about the things that kept him up at night.

_She already knows things happened, she jus' ain' had the elaboration, _Remy reminded himself, he rubbed his head; all this thinking was giving him a headache and he felt tired enough to sleep in this small space. He was almost considering it up until the door opened, light spilling into the dark room so much that at first it almost blinded him.

"Gambit...what the heck-?"

Jean stood there with a laundry basket balanced on one hip, her expression rather dumbfounded to find him sitting in the closet tucked away beside the shelves of sheets, towels and the laundry baskets.

Remy was quick to find an excuse; his growing headache gave him the inspiration "I have a bit o' a headache. So much noise here since everyone got back from their vacations..." he rubbed his forehead, "Jus'...needed a bit o' darkness...no sound...quiet 'n' dark here..."

"I...see..." Jean watched him exit the closet, somehow he doubted she believed him. "You look a little upset..." she noted.

"Like I said...headache..."

Jean paused, he wondered for a moment if the redhead could sense any of his unhappiness, any of the strain. She'd said she couldn't read him, said it to Scott. What if she'd lied? What if she could see _everything _going on in his head right then? The pictures of things Jean-Luc had done.

"Remy?"

"Yeah?" he asked.

"You know if anything is wrong..." she began, he hated how _kind, _how _patronizing _she sounded.

"Nothin' is wrong," he said swiftly, he forced a dazzling smile, "Jus' a lil' headache. I'll take an Advil if I can find some."

"I have some I can give you," Jean said softly, "I get headaches all the time."

"I bet," he responded, realising it was probably the case with _most _telepaths.

"I have to go do some other things, but they're in my room if you want to go get them...you know where it is?"

"Yeah, I think so," he replied, "third floor..."

"Second door on the left," Jean nodded, "they're in my purse...there's not many in there and they're not very strong but you're welcome to them."

He eyed her tiredly, "Y' lettin' a man go through y' purse?" he asked, "that's kind o' no man's land ain' it?"

"There's nothing in there that's particularly embarrassing or important," she promised.

_I guess that means there ain' nothin' remotely good t' steal either,_ he thought darkly.

"Thanks," he nodded. He supposed to make his excuse more believable he should at least go and get them – besides, it wasn't exactly as if he _didn't _have a headache. He headed upstairs, surprised that when he got to Jean's room, Tabitha Smith was in there going through Jean's dresser.

Remy stood at the door watching her raking through things. He cleared his throat to catch her attention; the blonde turned and gave a sheepish smirk.

"Oh, it's just you."

"Y' _still _takin' people's shit?" Remy asked, he moved over to where he saw Jean's purse hanging from her closet door.

"I...just needed a few things..."

"I thought I bought y' everythin' y' needed," Remy turned and looked at her.

"Not...everything," she responded.

"By the way...why y' have t' come out with that in front of everyone? Why didn' y' jus' _lie?"_

Tabitha paused after pulling the top drawer of the dresser open, "I...didn't see the point. A few of the others had figured it out. Why does it matter? It's your money anyway, right?" she sighed.

"Yeah, but...still..." he sighed.

"Unless you're _embarrassed_."

"No. I ain' embarrassed. Jus'...I don' see why it should be anyone else's business at all," he supposed, he retrieved the bottle of Advil from Jean's bag, it didn't sound like there were very many pills in the bottle.

"You okay?" Tabitha eyed up what he was taking.

Remy unscrewed the cap and popped two of the pills (out of the four that had been within) into his mouth, he swallowed them dry, "Headache. Inevitable in this place, I reckon."

"True," Tabitha grabbed a handful of items from the top drawer.

"What are you-?" Remy leaned to the side to try and see what she'd stolen, he grabbed a hold of her arm and held her hand up so he could examine what was dangling from her fingers. A handful of Jean Grey's bras. He wouldn't have bargained on the two girls being remotely the same size, not that he'd paid much attention to those matters since he'd married Rogue. "Oh."

Tabitha laughed a little, her cheeks going pink. She tried to shrug off the embarrassment all the same, "We...didn't hit any of that stuff when we were out...and I didn't want to say and put you in the spot or anything..."

"Do I even dare ask whose panties y' been stealin'?" he asked, he was certain _after _he'd asked he probably _shouldn't _have.

"Kitty gets like four or five packs of panties from her parents at Hanukkah and birthdays," Tabitha admitted, "she hasn't even _noticed _I took two of the packs. They'd never even been opened."

"I suppose that's somethin' t' be thankful for," Remy eyed the bras, "you and Jean ain' _remotely _got the same size, by the way," he remarked, unable to keep himself from saying it.

"You think?" Tabitha glanced down to her bosom and sighed, "anyway, Jean has the nicest ones," Tabitha shrugged, "Rogue's bras are all like...cheap nylon and they show through everything I own. Plus she only owns like four...she'd go nuts if one of them disappeared."

Remy had _noticed _that Rogue had very few bras. She'd only packed two for their trip to Las Vegas and Louisiana, she'd had to buy some later. He was certain she had a few more now; he'd helped her pick some during their time in Louisiana. Tabitha most definitely had _not _seen those, he reckoned. _Probably hidin' them 'cause they're more risque than what she previously had, _Remy thought.

Remy grabbed the bras back from Tabitha, "Put them back. If y' need money t' buy bras, jus' _say."_

"I don't want any more money," Tabitha shook her head, "she probably won't even miss these anyway..."

"They're in the top drawer," Remy noted, he put the bras back into the drawers, feeling a little iffy about touching the articles of clothing. He was certain Rogue would be quite unamused by the thought of him handling Jean Grey's underwear.

"So?"

"When y' use somethin' a lot, it tends t' go in the drawer that's _easiest _t' get t'...like the top. If those were somethin' she didn' wear much or even at all, they'd be in the bottom drawer along with all the other crap she most likely never wears..."

Tabitha knelt down and slid open the bottom drawer, "wow...you're right..." she admitted, "there's bras in here...they're kind of...old lady-ish though."

"Yeah most likely they the ones she don' wear," Remy replied dully.

"How do you know this?"

"Obvious," Remy supposed.

"Sorry but there's no way I'm wearing bras that look like they came from my great grandma's _unmentionables _drawer."

"Then y' gon' have t' buy new ones..." Remy headed for the door, "a hundred bucks be enough t' get y' what y' need?" he asked. For bras, he wasn't going to go _over _that. A hundred was reasonable and easily overlooked; if he went over that and Rogue found out again, he was certain it was only going to cause more drama and he didn't need it.

"Yeah..." Tabitha replied, "but I can't pay you back...at least not for like...a thousand years. I owe so much cash out to _everyone, _and they're all on my back about it as it is..."

"It's my turn t' clean the toilets tomorrow. Y' can do that in my place. Next few times I'm on the rota, y' do it, we're square, okay? I'd rather pay a hundred bucks f' someone else t' do it than put my hand down a toilet."

"Deal," Tabitha agreed. Remy supposed to her it was a fair deal because she'd _probably _find a way to con someone else into doing it for her. They walked along the hall towards Tabitha's room, it being on the way to the staircase. Tabitha stopped outside her room door, "You know, you're not as bad as they said you are..."

"Y' mean Cyclops...Jean...those guys," Remy chewed the inside of his cheek, he absently ran a finger over the slightly flaking paint of the door frame.

Tabitha seemed worried for a moment, Remy remembered that perhaps the fact the others had been talking about him wasn't supposed to be something he knew about. They wouldn't have realised he was busy in the closet still able to overhear while they bad mouthed him in the kitchen. "I mean Lance and Pietro..."

"Yeah, well...they bad mouth everyone," Remy supposed, "easier t' hide their own shortcomin's when they makin' fun of other people constantly."

"I guess," Tabitha shrugged.

"I'll get the money t' y' tomorrow mornin'."

"Thank you," she said quietly, she smiled faintly, "It's...it's the nicest thing anyone's done for me in a long time."

"Don' thank me," Remy replied. "It's a deal, not a gift...y' still got t' clean toilets in my place."

"It's still nice," Tabitha replied, "everyone grudges it when it comes to helping me out, you know? But not you..." she admitted.

Remy supposed if he wasn't so affluent in comparison to the others, he might grudge it just as much. The money he'd spent on Tabitha...it was a drop in the ocean, he didn't care if he got it back or not.

"Don't worry 'bout it, okay?" he asked, "it's...jus'...I know what it's like...how hard it can be when y' got nothin'. Wouldn' wish it on anyone."

Tabitha took a hold of the front of his t-shirt and leaned up, standing on her tip toes, she went to press a kiss against his lips, it struck him as slightly surprising but he anticipated it at the last moment and turned his face, she caught his cheek instead, her tacky fuschia lipstick left a mark on his face, he felt it.

"Good night," she said, and she shut the door on him immediately and almost unceremoniously. Remy shook his head at himself, he wished he'd anticipated that situation much faster, been able to move out of the way entirely. He hoped the girl didn't have the wrong idea about him. As he turned to go down the stairs, he saw Kitty Pryde standing there, she'd seen the entire exchange.

Remy wiped his cheek swiftly, "that...wasn't what it looked like," he said, trying to sound cool and composed, afraid it might come out as nervous and guilty. He wondered when it had been that he had suddenly become _that _guy.

"None of my business," commented Kitty, she moved on by him and went towards her room.

Remy caught Kitty's arm hastily, stopping her from going inside, "don'...say anythin'."

Kitty turned to look at him, her sapphire eyes were wild and childlike, hugely curious, "pardon?"

"I know how things work 'round here, I catch on fast, rumours get around here faster than crabs at a hobo orgy..."

The smaller girl seemed quite dismayed at the accusation _and _the phrasing, "I-"

"Look, _no one _needs t' know about that..."

"Yeah...like...whatever," Kitty pulled her arm away from him by _phasing _it through his fingers, threw him the oddest look and then went into her bedroom, phasing through the door.

Remy swept his hand through his hair frustratedly. _Smooth, Remy. Real smooth._

* * *

><p><strong>End of Part Eleven<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks to all for the amazing reviews, I got some really thoughtful ones this week, and it's always nice to hear what people think.<strong>

**Again, I'm yet again confused by the accusation from "clothes" I'm "stereotyping" Rogue's gothic style...half the time in my stories I rarely bother specifying what colours her blouses or tops are, etc. In the past few stories she's worn a lot of different things that weren't altogether _gothic _at all (white dress, plain hoodies, classic blouses, etc). As for the shoes in chapter seven, I deliberately wrote those shoes as having laces with skulls on them so that they would be UNIQUE and somewhat quirky enough, so that it would be likely something Remy would notice someone else was wearing _Rogue's _shoes (I thought this would be rather obvious). I think twice in all the stories I've written about her so far, has she ever worn anything with a "skull" pattern, and both times it's been used as an indicator to Remy that the item "belongs" to Rogue. I don't see how I'm to be again accused of stereotyping Rogue, and yet hilariously no one complains at me for at for stereotyping Kitty Pryde for always wearing pink cardigans (which she has in EVERY story I've written) flipflops and saying the word "like" a lot...lol. **

**Totally, like, Boggles the, like, mind. **

**Hope everyone has a fantastic weekend, love you all :)**


	12. Part Twelve

**BENEATH THE SURFACE**

**Part Twelve**

* * *

><p>Rogue dropped down tiredly into a chair at the kitchen table the next morning for breakfast; she'd tossed and turned all night, unable to get her argument with Remy out of her head. It was silly, the entire thing seemed so trivial and yet, she was unable to stop thinking about it all the same.<p>

She was glad that morning that Remy hadn't shown; she didn't ask where he was at (she assumed sleeping in), and instead, just silently hoped he would stay his distance for the moment so he could let his anger simmer down a little. Hopefully in a day or so he would finally understand that he'd been _wrong _to keep things from her, and that _he _was the one who should be apologising as she had absolutely _no _intention of doing so.

"Mornin'," Rogue yawned tiredly.

"You look a little tired," said Scott Summers, glancing over at her.

_In other words, Ah look like shit. That's what people mean when they say you look tired, they mean you look bad, _Rogue thought miserably. "Ah tossed and turned a little, couldn't get comfortable last night," she explained, deciding to make it a half truth simply to avoid having to lie about it altogether and giving her misery away.

Kitty Pryde placed a large serving dish into the middle of the table, hands clad in ridiculously pink oven mitts, "breakfast's up."

Scott leaned over and took the lid off of the dish, "oatmeal..." he sighed.

"It's good for you," Kitty said brightly, "eat up."

"Is there anythin' else?" Rahne asked, she wrinkled her nose, "if I wanted to have porridge for breakfast, I'd go back home to Scotland."

"There's toast, that's it," Kitty brought a plate of toast over.

"I know you're a vegetarian and all," Amara sighed, "but could you not have done _Eggs _or something?"

"I always burn the eggs," the petite brunette retorted, "I was _banned _from cooking eggs. Last time, Ororo said it took her about forty minutes to scrape it off of the pan."

"You could have boiled them," Rahne grumbled.

Rogue spoke up, attempting to join in for the sake of not seeming too quiet and preoccupied with her problems, "Kitty is the only person alive who could literally _burn _a boiled egg."

Kitty smirked, "it's a talent. If you want to get up and fry up some bacon or something, no one is stopping you."

No one offered to make anything else, Rogue supposed it took too much effort for them to open a pack of bacon and throw it in a pan.

Kitty took a seat at the table, sitting to the corner of Rogue, she spooned herself a bowl of oatmeal, seeming rather bright and chirpy this morning. Rogue hated that _anyone _could be this wide awake and cheerful at nine am. "Rogue, you got any plans today?"

"Not really," Rogue shrugged.

"I'm going clothes shopping for school, plus I need some supplies. You wanna come along?"

Rogue picked up a piece of toast and chewed it thoughtfully, she supposed she _did _need clothes for school. The ones that Remy had bought her were a little inappropriate for Bayville high and a lot of her clothes were getting slightly too old. "Sounds like fun," she lied. It didn't sound like fun, it sounded like an excuse to get out of the mansion though, and right now she definitely needed one.

"What sounds fun?" yawned Tabitha Smith as she stumbled tiredly into the kitchen, she moved to the table and took a seat next to Kitty.

"Rogue and I are going shopping for clothes," Kitty said enthusiastically.

"Ooh," Tabitha brightened up a bit, "mind if I tag along, I have to get some stuff too."

"I guess that'd be okay," Kitty eyed Tabitha up almost thoughtfully, Rogue could see exactly what was going on in the girl's head at that moment, she knew it because she was thinking the _exact _same thing. Why did Tabitha need to come when she'd just _gotten_ new clothes. And for that matter, how did she have _more _money?

"Thought you were broke," spoke up Amara from the other end of the table, her tone snooty. The girl couldn't resist an opportunity to pick on someone for being a little less fortunate than herself, and the older she got, the more of a _snob _she became.

"I just got a letter from my Grandma, she sent me a hundred bucks," Tabitha poured herself some orange juice.

Rogue wished she could now change her mind; the thought of going shopping with the girl Remy had given all these free clothes to, spent so much damn money on...well...it didn't sit well with her. She didn't enjoy shopping at the best of times, but she knew she was definitely _not_ going to be able to even _tolerate_ it now.

"You know, you _could _use that hundred dollars and perhaps _pay _some of us back money that you borrowed," Amara commented.

"I could, but I have to get some new underwear," Tabitha commented, her tone just as snooty. "Anyway, why should I rush to pay _you_ back? According to you, you're _rolling _in money."

Amara frowned, but didn't respond after this.

"Eat up, we can leave about ten," Kitty glanced at her watch.

Rogue glanced up as Remy stepped into the kitchen, he looked quite tired, his hair uncombed, his face unshaved, his t-shirt (was that the same one from last night?) creased as if he'd slept in it. He immediately moved to the coffee maker to get himself a cup, he didn't greet any one good morning.

_He slept poorly, _Rogue realised, she watched him as he poured himself coffee and then moved to the table, he sat at the far end. _Far _from _her. _ Quickly, she moved her eyes from him, feeling a little hurt by the thought he'd done this deliberately.

_He's still mad, _she realised.

"Why don't you come along, Gambit?" Tabitha spoke up suddenly.

Remy raised his eyes from the cup he was about to sip from, his expression was sleepy, his face sagging a little, "hmm?"

"We're going _shopping _for clothes, why don't you come?"

"Uh...no, no thanks," Remy commented.

"Come on, you need clothes if you're going to go to High School, you can't go to school wearing the same three t-shirts...people will talk about you," Tabitha teased.

"I don' care," he muttered dully.

"Oh, geez, stop bein' a grump," Tabitha smirked.

"I ain' goin' fuckin' clothes shoppin' wit' three femmes. Y' think I'm interested in listenin' t' y' all bicker about who gettin' a better deal and who looks fat in a t-shirt and those _skinny jeans _y' all seem t' be catapultin' y'selves int' these days..."

Rogue frowned. _Didn't seem to mind takin' _Tabitha _for shoppin' though, _she wished she could say.

"What about your clothes for school?"

Remy muttered quietly, "I'll shop online."

"Oh come _on,_" Tabitha groaned, "we can pick out your clothes for you, get you some _nice _outfits."

Rogue thought there was nothing much wrong with the outfits Remy had (other than the heinous Hawaiian shirts, which had been retired since their return from vacation). Although she was still mad at Remy, she spoke up for him, "what's wrong with his clothes?"

"The t-shirts are a little old...and that stupid hoodie he wears _all _the time-" Tabitha made a face.

Rogue frowned a little, she'd _bought _that hooded shirt for him in Las Vegas, just before they had gone to Louisiana. All right...perhaps she hadn't _bought it for him_ exactly, she'd paid for it on his credit card, but she'd picked it out. He wore the t-shirt, the jeans and the shoes she'd bought that day all the time...he looked good in those clothes and seemed to like them too. "What about that hoodie?"

"It's lame."

Remy spoke up, "Rogue picked it out," he said quite matter of factly, then he delicately sipped his black coffee. Rogue sensed he was trying to start an argument between her and Tabitha.

Rogue tried to refrain from throwing a look at her husband right then, it had been a little _too _telling. She decided she had to explain and so quickly she began weaving a lie, "he lost his jacket in a cab...it was _raining, _we went into the nearest store and picked out the first thing we saw," she explained.

"That explains why it's so hideous I guess," Tabitha reasoned.

"Ah like it," Rogue commented.

"When he gets new clothes, you can have it, then," decided Tabitha, "it doesn't look good on him..."

Remy leaned back in his chair, looking between the both of them, Rogue got the impression he was almost intrigued to see how this argument would pan out. She wondered if he'd deliberately _instigated it _just for his own amusement.

"He's never complained about it," Rogue retorted.

"Yeah, well, maybe he just didn't want to hurt your feelings," Tabitha picked up a piece of toast and pulled it apart, although made no attempt to eat it.

Rogue quickly snapped her attention to Remy, who was sitting with both hands around his coffee cup. "Tell her that ain't true."

"Maybe it is, maybe it isn't," Remy shrugged, his eyes twinkled just a little, "if it was true, I probably wouldn't say jus' in case she be right."

Tabitha laughed just a little, "Annnyway, are you coming or what?"

"Y' know what, I think I might," Remy decided, he glanced away for a moment, he seemed to see something in the corner, Rogue thought it might be a spider or a fly and turned to look at what it was but saw nothing there. She supposed whatever it had been had scuttled or flown away. Remy continued, "maybe I do need t' get a few things."

"Awesome," Tabitha grinned.

_Course she'd want him there, _Rogue thought bitterly. _So she can get him to buy her more shit._

* * *

><p>After breakfast, the four of them drove out (borrowing Scott's car <em>with <em>permission) to the mall. Rogue personally hated the mall they'd chosen to go to, as the stores were far too trendy and far too expensive for her liking, there was barely anywhere she could shop where the clothes suited her personal gothic preference when it came to style or her _budget._

It felt horribly awkward, driving there with Tabitha in the passengers seat, playing with the radio until she could find the loudest most annoying song she could to sing along (rather badly) to.

At first, the plan had been that they all split up at the mall and go in separate directions and meet up later – this had been Kitty's idea. Rogue thought the better of it though, she didn't like the idea of Tabitha and Remy splitting up just so Tabitha could follow him wherever he decided to go later and hit him up for more money. Rogue knew the girl had a tendency to be a something of a user, and she suspected the girl _also _had a thing for Remy which didn't help the situation.

Rogue decided it would be much better to stick together to the same stores, help each other pick outfits, while Remy would have the option of heading off _alone_ to the men's departments.

But despite having the option, Remy stuck ridiculously close by, and Rogue was very aware of him watching almost every move she made. Every time she picked something up, every time she examined something or held it up to herself and looked in the mirror, there he was behind her, watching her. He'd barely said two words to her unless it was in the spirit of the shopping trip; everything he said was so general and casual but she had to be thankful he was at least being civil. He hid his irritation with her rather well, Rogue thought, but she was fully aware it was still there lingering beneath the surface.

In the women's department of a rather large clothing store in the mall, Tabitha quietly commented to the group (Rogue was almost certain the girl had made it sound subtle but deliberately loud enough _just _so Remy could hear), "I really need to go look at the underwear section."

Kitty chewed the inside of her cheek, "actually I do too, a lot of my underwear keeps going missing."

Rogue raised an eyebrow and glanced towards Tabitha, wondering if _she _had anything to do with that. The thought of wearing someone else's underwear was too disturbing for words.

"Okay, uhm..." Kitty glanced at her watch thoughtfully, "me and Tabitha are gonna look at the lingerie section, I guess Gambit won't want to go there..." she smirked.

"Sorry, if I'm gon' see bras and panties, it should be while it's bein' peeled off a hot date or a really fine stripper," Remy supposed. Rogue felt her cheeks flush in fury at the suggestion. She wanted to snap back a response but she held her tongue; it would be _far _too telling if she did so. "Rogue, why don' y' come help me pick some stuff f' school."

Tabitha laughed a little at this suggestion, "really? I thought you thought her choices were lame?"

"I did until I saw the things you tried t' pick out for me in that last place," Remy replied, smirking back at the blonde.

"What was wrong with my choices?" Tabitha blinked.

"Sorry, did I give y' the impression I wanted t' dress like Justin Beiber?" Remy snorted.

"You just have no taste," the blonde laughed.

"I think y' probably gon' find the fault _don' _lie with me," Remy shook his head, "I'm goin' wit' Rogue. We'll come find y' when we're done."

"Sure thing," Kitty agreed.

Rogue watched as Tabitha and Kitty disappeared off; she stood there, feeling awkward again with her husband awkwardly hovering over her. She didn't know what to say, and the only thing she knew she was _not _going to say was that she was sorry for yesterday.

"Y' buyin' anythin' in here or what?" Remy asked, he looked around the racks, his expression somewhat bored, his tone was a little dull.

"Not in here," Rogue replied.

"Yeah, this place kind of lame...don' have anythin' really suit you..." he touched a floral patterned blouse, "this f' example...sure I see Tante Mattie wear this last time I see her..."

Rogue saw Remy's eyes suddenly shift, he looked hurt. It took her a moment to realise the last time he had seen Tante Mattie _properly (_other than in the chamber before his exile) had been the funeral. "Where do you want to get your clothes?" she asked, trying to quickly change the subject, sensing he didn't need the thoughts clouding him right now.

"I guess that store two doors down," Remy replied, shrugging. "This place is far too _preppy _f' my likin'."

They left the store, quiet with each other, Rogue felt the tension between them now that the others were gone. She'd expected they'd argue but it was strange how he hadn't decided to pick at her. _He really _is _mad, _she realised. "Wait..." she stopped just before they go to the store he needed to go to, "Ah have to hit an ATM first."

"Why bother?" he sighed, "not like y' gon' buy anythin'."

"Ah might."

"Doubtful. Y' such a cheapskate," he muttered.

"Ah am _not_."

"Y' _so _are," he commented.

"Ah'm not _cheap, _Ah'm just _thrifty, _Remy. There's a difference. When you live on a _limited _allowance, you learn to make _every _penny count."

"Well, y' certainly makin' every penny count considerin' we've been to five stores and y' ain' even bought a single thing_._"

Rogue frowned a little, "all the stores here don't really _cater _to my style."

"There's a Hot Topic."

"Yeah, Ah can fight with a hundred twelve year olds over an on sale _Ramones _t-shirt," Rogue rolled her eyes, "Half of them have never even _heard _of half the bands they wear the t-shirts for, makes me sick sometimes. Anyway, Ah don't _shop _in that place..."

"Sure y' don'," Remy shrugged. "Look, there's an ATM over there," he gestured, "lets jus' get this over with."

Remy followed her to the nearest cash machine, hands in the pockets of his hooded sweatshirt – ironically the one she'd picked out for him in Las Vegas. She wondered if he'd worn it deliberately just to make a point. It was hard to tell with him sometimes.

Rogue stood at the machine, she slipped her card in and hid the keypad from Remy's sight as she began tapping in her PIN number.

"Y' think I'm gon' steal from y'?" he scoffed.

"No..." she said, "It's just somethin' Ah always do."

Remy didn't argue on the subject although she'd expected him to; he hovered at her side, back against the wall, picking at a fingernail as she went through the options to check if her allowance from the Professor (for her participation in chores and such at the mansion) had been transferred into her account. She was stunned when her balance came up, it was _not _what she'd expected to see.

"Uhm..." she almost choked in shock.

"Somethin' wrong?" he asked, sounding rather bored.

"Yeah...Ah think the Professor made a mistake when he transferred in my allowance..."

"What y' mean?" Remy asked, he turned to look at the screen casually.

Rogue swallowed hard, "there's over fifty thou-" she said, she realised her voice was a little loud and people walking by may hear, "fifty thousand dollars..." she almost whispered.

"That was me," Remy said, the way he made it sound was almost as if he'd done something general, as if he'd left the toilet seat up. As if it were an 'oops...deal with it' moment.

"You put _fifty thousand dollars _into my fucking _bank account?!" _she gaped at him.

"Relax," he muttered, "Look, no one said y' had t' use it, it's jus' _there _in case."

"In case _what?" _she demanded. "In case Ah need to buy a fucking _kidney _on the black market?!"

"In case y' need it for an emergency."

"Emergency money..." she almost laughed in disbelief, "emergency money is like twenty bucks for gas, not _fifty _thousand dollars..."

"In case y' needed it t' buy a car or somethin'."

"Ah don't _need _your money," she snapped.

"Then don't use it," he shrugged simply; Rogue detected the tiniest bit of aggravation in his face that she _refused _to accept it. He saw it as rather insignificant, she supposed fifty thousand dollars was minuscule to someone who as far as she knew was _still _hiding millions in an offshore account somewhere. It was a drop in the _ocean _to him.

Rogue took fifty dollars out of the account, money she was sure she'd had in there before hand, and left the bulk in, "did you like..." she removed her card and the crisp two twenties and a ten, "put this in last night because of Tabitha?"

"Seriously...we're going to go down _this _route?" he demanded.

"Can you blame me?" she frowned, "_did you_?"

"No," he frowned, "it was there for a while."

"Really?" she doubted this.

"Really."

"You just _miraculously _forgot to mention."

"Yeah," Remy replied.

"_When _did you do it?"

"Weeks ago," he replied, he seemed to rack his brains for a moment, "St. Tropez."

Rogue didn't like the shiftiness in his expression when he said this. She doubted that had happened in St. Tropez. She'd never checked her account in St. Tropez, she'd never thought to because she'd been aware (as far as she knew) that she had very little in the account to bother checking on. "You know Ah'll be able to see from my statement when it went in."

"So go get a fucking statement then," he muttered.

"Ah will," she said.

"I did it the day we went shoppin' f' each other's clothes...while I was waitin' on _you _t' pick out shit for _me."_

_ "Sure you did,_" Rogue made a face.

"Look, believe what you want, if you want, fucking _check it,_" he commanded.

"Ah will. When Ah get home."

"Fine."

"Fine."

There was an angry silence between them, they stood opposite each other, never looking at each other. Rogue thought it was going to remain that way, but Remy decided to be the one to break it.

"I don't know why you can't just say _thank you _and take the fucking money," he grumbled irritably.

"Because Ah can't help but feel you're tryin' to _fix _what you did with Tabitha."

"Fix what I did?!" he scoffed, "fix it? Like _I'm even _the one t' be sorry?! I told y', _you're _the one who needs t' apologise, not me, I got nothin' t' be sorry for. I helped a friend, that was it."

"Oh, so she's your _friend _now?" Rogue asked, folding her arms stubbornly.

"Y' told me y' wanted me t' make friends," he reminded her matter-of-factly.

"Yeah! Like...guy friends, not _girlfriends. _And not the _prettiest girl _in the damn institute."

"Y' know how y' sound right now?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Rogue looked away, she didn't want to admit how it probably sounded to him_. _She didn't want to admit that it seemed to her it was perfectly justifiable to feel these things either.

"Y' know this is the _first _time you and I have been _alone _and _out _of the damn institute since we got back...this _ain' _how we shoul' be spendin' our time t'gether," he muttered.

She glanced up to him, he wasn't even looking at her, he was staring into the window of a nearby store, his expression a little distracted. It hadn't occurred to her before but she was right, it _was _the first time. "How _should _we be spendin' it?" she asked pointedly.

"Should have blown Tabitha and Kitty off and jus' went off t'gether on our own," he replied.

"It'd look too suspicious," Rogue commented.

"And I'm supposed t' _care _about what's suspicious and what ain'?" he demanded.

"Remy..." she sighed softly.

Remy stared at a mannequin, he looked momentarily angry, he frowned and turned back to stare at Rogue, "I shoul' be able t' walk wit' y' and hold y' hand wit' out _carin' _what looks suspicious."

"Look...just...give me a little more time, please?"

He paused, he seemed to be having some kind of internal struggle to calm himself from losing his temper with her. _Somehow, _he succeeded. "Lets go off together somewhere, be alone..." he suggested softly, surprising her.

"What about Kitty and Tabitha?" Rogue asked, feeling a little bitter mentioning Tabitha at all right now.

"They're neck deep in the wonderful world of clothes shoppin', gazin' dreamily at sparkly shoes and bras with more paddin' than riot gear. Y' think they would actually even _care _if we left? Y' think they would even notice?"

Rogue sighed softly.

"Text Kitty right now," Remy commanded.

"And say _what?" _Rogue asked, a little distracted, she tried to remember how the argument had so quickly switched to this. He had such talent for always being able to turn the tables, distract her from what was going on by changing the subject and the situation. It was one of his _better _skills.

"Tell them that you and me gon' leave," he replied. "They most likely won' even find anythin' weird about it."

Rogue raised an eyebrow at him. What about excuses? How was she supposed to explain where they'd gone or what they'd done?

Remy gave her a meaningful look, "We can pick them up after...couple of hours...no one be any the wiser...'cept us."

She took her phone out of her pocket but stood looking at it, not sure if she even wanted to leave or not. Kitty might ask why she and Tabitha shouldn't tag along to whatever place they'd decided to go to – how was she supposed to lie?

Remy took the phone from her before she had any more chance to consider things; he swiped the unlock screen and began typing swiftly; he was much better at using the iPhone than she was (it usually meant taking her gloves off to do so and she still hadn't mastered typing on the touch screen).

"There..." he hit send and passed her the phone back.

Rogue gazed at the screen, reading the message aloud, "_Me and Gumbo going to look at second hand Harley Davidson he just seen an ad for – might be gone hour or two max, owner is outside of town. Will pick you up on way back home."_

_ "_Sounds legit," Remy assured.

_ "_You think they'll believe that?" Rogue asked.

"Probably. We're here with Scott's car...they know you wouldn't let me take it alone...they have to believe it."

"Is there a Harley?" she asked as she put her phone back in her pocket.

"No," he replied, "c' mon."

"What about the clothes?"

"Like I said, I can order online."

The drive was mostly silent between them. For the entire journey Rogue couldn't help going over in her head that he'd put the fifty thousand dollars in her account to try and 'make up' for what he'd done with Tabitha. She didn't _doubt _that if she went online and checked her statement that the money would show as having been deposited weeks before...but then Remy had connections, he _always _had ways of shifting the dates on things. If he could shift the dates on a marriage license then it wasn't unbelievable he could do the same with a bank statement.

Remy parked Scott's car on the bluff overlooking the other side of Bayville; it was far out, way on the outskirts, and Bayville was a slightly hazy cluster of suburban streets and nice little commercial buildings outlining the city.

"I used t' come up here sometimes, watch y' all drive up t' the high school with a high power scope," Remy admitted as he turned off the engine. Rogue watched him, he looked strangely at ease behind the wheel of Scott's car, he looked good there although she'd been nervous about letting him drive it. Scott was rather nervous about letting others drive his car at the best of times, she wondered how furious he'd be if he found out Remy had been behind the wheel.

Rogue gazed out over the view, "Ah don't think Ah've ever been up here before."

"Yeah, you wouldn't have. It's private property."

"Won't we get into trouble?"

"Doubtful," Remy shrugged, "Magneto owns it..."

"Oh..." she said quietly, she let her elbow rest on the passengers side door, she stared out to the town, it looked so sleepy and peaceful from far away. "Magneto's still alive?" she asked, she hadn't heard anything of him in what seemed forever.

"This week," Remy commented, "next week, who knows."

"How many times have we thought he was _dead?" _Rogue wondered to herself aloud.

"He's made more comebacks than Madonna," Remy commented, "and still looks ever so slightly younger."

"Yeah," Rogue smirked, staring down at the view.

"Feels weird," Remy admitted after a moment.

"Hmm?"

"Gettin' y' alone...after so long."

Rogue chewed the inside of her cheek thoughtfully, it did feel a little odd being so alone again. They hadn't been this far from people since St. Tropez.

"I mean...where we can talk...without people interruptin'...without people bein' able t' maybe overhear us...it's nice and peaceful."

She wondered at that moment if maybe he'd finally decided he wanted to tell her things, wanted to unload some of his burdens, maybe that was why he'd picked so quiet a spot.

"What are we going to say when you get back to the mall and we don't have a _Harley _with us?"

"That I didn' buy it. Simple as that. It was a piece of shit."

"What if they ask questions?"

"I got answers, I'll wing it," he supposed.

Rogue wiped a little dust from the heater vent on the dashboard with the finger of her glove; she felt Remy's hand gently caress her thigh, pushing her skirt up just a little. She supposed she should have expected a move much sooner than this.

"I ain' gon' apologise about doin' the right thing with the clothes," Remy admitted, his tone almost absent for a moment, his fingers swept to the inside of her thighs, getting closer and closer. "And I'm guessin' y' ain' gon' apologise about goin' off at me either."

"Ah don't see why Ah should," Rogue admitted, "you were the one who kept it a secret."

"It weren't a secret, it jus' never _occurred _t' me that I should have t' tell y' about it..." his hand came closer, Rogue felt her stomach flutter at the thought of it. Was this manipulation? She wasn't sure she altogether _minded_ right now. "It weren' like there was anythin' _meaningful _'bout it. I was jus'...tryin' t' be nice...hard as that is to believe."

Rogue sighed quietly, "Ah...suppose it's not too hard to believe," she finally decided, somewhat feeling that she still somehow doubted the intentions behind it all.

"I don' like _not _speakin' t' y', Marie..." Remy admitted.

_Barely been twelve hours, already drivin' him mad? What would it be like if we fought for weeks? _Rogue thought, she felt her eyes roll in the back of her head as his fingers met with her. She fought to try and keep in control of herself but it was difficult, he had _seduction _down to a fine art, and she was just like every other girl who ever fell for it helplessly.

She turned to look at him, his eyes were close to hers, blurring a little, she found it so hard to focus as he began rubbing gently at her. Just moments ago, she'd had no thoughts of sex in her head, now they were rushing through her, memories of the closet replaying over and over like a video on repeat. Just an hour ago she'd still been angry with him, now she was starting to feel that anger channel into other places.

"Let's put it t' maybe we was both wrong t' get mad...and say we learned from it...and...make up."

"It ain' all that easy..." she breathed.

"I'll say I'll be more forthcomin' in future. And y' can say y' give me the benefit of the doubt when somethin' comes up that I ain' had the chance t' tell y' yet..." he continued, he took her hand and led it to him, he was like rock beneath those jeans, and the thought made her flush.

Why hadn't anything felt quite like _this _on the yacht? Why hadn't she burned quite _this _way then? Why hadn't it been as passionate and heated as it had in the closet? Why hadn't there been that sense of urgency then? Maybe it was just the little time they had spent together in weeks...or maybe it was just the spontaneity of the moment. At that moment, the reasoning didn't seem as important as what he was doing.

Every time he touched her the way he did, she felt her anger ebbing away more and more and when he moaned when she touched him, it left her feeling just a little more satisfied that while _Tabitha _was wearing the clothes he'd bought, _she _would be the one who got to hear him make the sounds he was making now.

She watched him, strangely love sick and fascinated as he tilted the seat back a little, he'd unbuttoned his jeans and given her _full _access to do whatever she wanted, which felt a little disappointingly limited to while wearing stretch PVC gloves. She had to go slow, vigorous rubbing with gloves was only likely to give him _friction _burns and she couldn't imagine anything more uncomfortable.

The entire scenario felt a little bizarre, doing this in broad daylight, again in a vehicle (albeit this one on land), seeing him in her hand, listening to the way he gasped and breathed, the way his body writhed a little at her touch. She remembered the way he'd moaned during the vocal show for Jean-Luc on their first day in Louisiana...the old man had been right. He sounded _nothing _like that when he was _really _in the _moment._

He bit into his lip and somehow still managed to get the words, "I got a condom," out almost perfectly without it sounding comical.

Her stomach was in knots at the thought, she hated to admit to herself she was both horrified about the thought of it and at the same time _intrigued _about the idea of being with him again.

"Maybe we shouldn't..." she swallowed hard; his touch was so very divine that she was certain that he could have suggested _anything _at that moment and she might have given into it. Yes, she really _did _understand now why so many women could give in to him so easy.

"Up t' you..."

Oh she _hated _that kind of pressure, while at the same time almost feeling a little powerful at the thought of being the one to make that decision. "Is it...safe?" she asked awkwardly, she swept her hair back from her face.

"Was the last time," he opened his eyes to look at her, "still got t' be careful but...it's doable."

"In the _car?" _she asked, she looked around the car awkwardly. There was an almost sick perversion in the thought of this happening in Scott's car. The boy would be _mortified _if he knew.

"Maybe it be easier f' y'..." he pulled her towards him, she realised he was trying to pull her onto his lap, and she resisted.

_"On top?" _she asked in disgrace. The thought made her cheeks burn as if there were tiny rivers of lava threading through her capillaries. "_Ah...don't_ think so..."

"Why not...?" he laughed a little at her.

"Ah've never-"

"I know y' never," he replied, smirking.

"Ah...Ah don't think Ah can do this in public..." She swallowed nervously.

"Y' did before...on the yacht..." he reminded, "we're just as far from people now as we was then, and we'd be able t' hear if any cars were comin'...we ain' gon' get caught up here."

"How would you know we won't get caught?" she frowned at him a little.

He raised an eyebrow at her, she supposed that meant he'd been here before in a car with a woman. The thought made her shudder.

Rogue chewed her lip, thinking of it. She despised the fact he was making her _want _this, but at the same time, common sense, and the fret of being caught still haunted her. She didn't to go all the way again in _another _vehicle, she didn't want it to be out in the open, she wanted something more private.

"It..." she stammered, "it isn' that Ah don't want to..."

"But..." he sighed, "Y' don' wan' be in a car..." he realised. Every time he spoke she detected the slight frustration that nothing was happening, that she'd stopped touching him. "It's okay..." he said gently, he brushed her hair from her forehead gently, so careful not to let their flesh touch. "It can be whenever y' like, wherever y' like...when y' ready..."

"And it's okay?"

"Course it is."

"And you're not mad?"

He looked conflicted for a moment, "no," he lowered his eyes, "'sides...moment seems t' be gone anyway."

She dropped her eyes too but he was already quickly putting himself away. Just like _that _it was over without the _hoorah? _"Did...Ah do somethin' wrong?"

"No...no..." he promised, he quickly put himself away, his face going red; he was embarrassed and she couldn't blame him; as she understood it from books, movie and television, it was a rather humiliating experience for a man. "It's my own fault..."

"How could it be?"

"Just...if I hadn't suggested we go further...we wouldn't have stopped t' talk...it was jus' the time it took t' get back t' it is all..it's my fault."

Rogue swallowed nervously, "do you want to try again or...?"

Remy eyed the rear view mirror, his expression rather dour, "lets jus' get back t' the mall t' pick up the gruesome twosome," he sighed deeply.

"Ah'm sorry," she admitted, her cheeks flushing.

"Don' be sorry. Ain' your fault..." he promised, he started the car.

Rogue still couldn't help wondering if he was going to hold this against her anyway. The thought that perhaps when it came to these things, they weren't as suited as they could have been struck her. Then again, what about the closet?

_It was dark, Ah could have been anyone. Maybe it's when he has to look at me that the problem starts, _Rogue thought darkly. "Remy..." she said quietly, "if...there was something wrong with us...you'd say, right?"

"Yeah," he turned to look at her, he sounded almost _sure _of it. Almost.

"Okay," she decided to accept it for now, he didn't seem like he was going to be forthcoming and she didn't want to push him, every time she did it only seemed to push him further away. Silently, she reached over and took his hand, clasping it lightly as he drove one handed. That was as much as she could do for him for now.

* * *

><p><strong>End of Part Twelve<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks to everyone for the super reviews!. I'm going to keep this short as the editor is lagging and it takes about ten seconds for my text to appear.<strong>


	13. Part Thirteen

**BENEATH THE SURFACE**

**Part Thirteen**

* * *

><p>Remy LeBeau was furious with a ghost; it wasn't bad enough the bastard had followed them to the mall, it wasn't bad enough he'd been in every clothing store they'd hit, it wasn't bad enough that the asshole had followed him into the mens room and watched him at the urinal.<p>

He'd been there in the car too, in the back seat.

Remy wished he _hadn't _looked at the rear view mirror at all; it had been force of habit, checking that the road behind them was clear of anyone coming up, that no one was going to catch them. Then he'd seen Jean-Luc there, menacing angry glare on his face. Nothing could have stopped him from losing his excitement faster than that.

The look on Rogue's face, the disappointment and the confusion, he hated that he had _let _Jean-Luc put that there. He hadn't been able to explain it, and even if he had tried, it would have sounded like the nonsensical ramblings of an insane person.

Sane people didn't see ghosts, weren't haunted every moment of their damn life by them.

Remy sat in the passenger's seat next to Rogue as Scott's red convertible was being pulled into the garage at the institute. He had called shotgun before Tabitha had had the chance to do so again, he didn't want to sit in that back seat where Jean-Luc had been. He didn't want to even associate it with him right now; from the passengers seat he couldn't see the back seat from the rear view mirror; if Jean-Luc was there between Tabitha and Kitty, Remy would never know and he wasn't about to turn around to check.

"You've been really quiet today, Gambit," Tabitha commented as she got out of the car after Rogue had turned off the ignition.

"Yeah, I don't got much t' say about shoppin' trips."

"You didn't even buy anything," Tabitha commented. "You still need clothes for school."

"I'll shop online, get it delivered next day," Remy sighed, he got out and went to the back to help the girls unload their bags (of which there was many, mostly belonging to Kitty).

Rogue eyed Remy up almost worriedly; he glanced towards her briefly, tried to give her a smile to say everything was okay when the others weren't looking. He could tell she suspected something was wrong.

_Women's intuition. She's known somethin' was wrong wit' me since the _day _I asked her t' marry me. Suppose she saw that moment as desperation enough that I had t' be out of my mind._

_ "_Can you be trusted to shop online?" teased Tabitha with a smirk.

Remy paused, "probably not," he shrugged, "Rogue, y' wan' help me shop f' clothes online? Pick out some things?"

Rogue blinked, Remy saw her fighting the urge to look _angry_ that he was asking her directly in front of the others, "Ah...don't know."

"I kind of like your taste, so..." Remy eyed her up, hoping that she'd just agree so that he could use it as an excuse to spend more time together with her, "Unless y' wan' jus' do it f' me...I trust y' with my money, I coul' give y' my card."

Rogue's cheeks seemed to pale a little, she drew a breath. Remy knew all too well _just _how suspicious she was likely to _think _Kitty and Tabitha might see this as. When a girl was trusted with the money of a man – especially a man who had a fair bit of money to spend – it _had _to look a little suspicious.

Remy almost hoped that right then Tabitha or Kitty might ask if there was something going on between them. He'd have picked up on it, why hadn't they? Were they that naïve?

_No, not naïve, jus' too trustin' of the fact Rogue's powers are supposed t' stop her from havin' relationships, _he supposed.

It took a second for Rogue to compose herself, "Ah'm _not _doin' your dirty work for you just so you can sit on your lazy ass."

"Then come help me."

"Fine," she said, it almost being through gritted teeth.

"Why didn't you ask me?" Tabitha pouted a little.

"The stuff y' tried t' pick out for me in the mall woulda made me look like a giant douchebag," Remy commented, "y' got good taste in girls clothes, but y' can't dress a man f' shit. I don' wan' look like I'm in a boy band."

"Spoil sport," Tabitha rolled her eyes, "I'm insulted, I'm going to go drown my sorrows in a tub of ice cream to get over the emotional distress."

Remy watched as Tabitha and Kitty wandered off, leaving the garage, he heard Rogue at his back coughing a little.

"She's...probably not even kidding about that," Rogue commented uneasily.

_ "_That ain' funny," Remy muttered, throwing his wife a look of disgust at the comment. "She can't help that."

Rogue looked at him strangely, "Oh? You know all about it, do you?"

He supposed he did, somewhat. People sometimes needed an outlet, especially when they'd been through traumatic things. For him, he'd always turned to sex, ever since he'd been _able _enough, it'd been his go-to outlet outside of smoking or the occasional drink. Tabitha on the other hand, here she wasn't likely to _have _many outlets, especially when she wasn't leaving the premises all that often.

"It's just obvious," Remy responded, trying to sound casual.

"How do you mean?"

"Stress...she's under a lot of pressure to be _perfect,"_ Remy pointed out simply.

"Yeah, _sure _she is," Rogue snorted, "she's beautiful, she has a killer body...well...usually...and all the guys _want _her-"

"She's under _pressure _because she's _not _a natural in the Danger Room...nor in the field. You sayin' if you were kicked off of the team so _soon _after bein' fast tracked to it, _you _wouldn't wanna overeat just t' take away some of the grief?" he asked, he hoped his attempt to cover up his _knowledge _of why the girl would overeat was working out rather well. "I know how it is, Marie..." he pointed out, "I'm in the same boat, they keepin' me stuck in the fuckin' _X-Babies_ when I know I got what it takes t' be out in the field wit' you and the others. I know _exactly _how the kid feels right now."

Rogue hugged herself, Remy saw all the insecurity right then. The girl had a slight tendency to be jealous of other girls, especially those who had better assets and certainly who _didn't _have have her powers to contend with.

"Y' don' need t' be jealous, y' know," He said quietly, he leaned on the car.

The word _jealous_ seemed to be a dirty word, her face seemed to go red, and she looked away, her eyes brimming a little. "Ah'm not," she responded quietly.

"I get it, cherie...I really do," he promised, he looked down to the floor; he wondered if her feelings about Tabitha even remotely _compared _to his worries about her and Logan. "It's hard, ain' it? Y' never had someone before and the thought of _losin' _them t' someone else..."

Rogue raised her eyes to him, "do _not _start that again."

"What?" he asked innocently.

"That...bullshit with Logan. Are you tryin' to _deliberately _make me jealous just to prove some kind of stupid fucking _point?"_

"No..." he shook his head, "Never occurred t' me. Why, is it workin'?" it was a joke, but he realised it was probably _not _the best time to make one.

Snorting angrily, Rogue passed him and stomped towards the door, Remy swiftly darted after her and caught her wrist, he hauled her, turning her around and pinning her into the corner. She stared up at him, dull green eyes a little wide, her lips trembling just a little.

"No need t' get angry," he said hotly against her ear, "I'm jus' playin'."

"It's not funny," her eyes dropped nervously to the floor.

Tentatively, he ran his pinky finger gently across the bulky silver cross pendant that was dangling close to her cleavage, the act he hoped suggestive enough just to let her know she was the _only _one he was interested in.

"Stop it..." she pushed his arm away feebly, "You'll get hurt...someone will see...people will _talk._"

"Let them talk..." he leaned close to her, his nose almost brushed against hers, she turned her head nervously. On the back of his neck, he could feel a cold breath of air; Jean-Luc was close by. He tried to focus on the moment, on _her _and not _him. "_People gon' start talkin' soon anyways, y' know..." he murmured close to her ear, "guy like me...not goin' out on the prowl...no action...y' know they gon' talk. Only a matter of time 'fore someone notices...'fore someone thinks I shoul' be out datin'."

Her breath came out in little tremors, her eyes closed, she seemed to be struggling to focus herself. He was glad he still had _that _effect on her at least. If only someone would walk in, catch this, then no more pretence ever again. "So...?"

"So...what y' wan' me t' do if someone asks me out? What if say...Kitty or..._Tabitha _asks me out?"

Rogue pushed him away, "You're not bein' funny," she walked away from him.

"I'm serious," he admitted, he leaned casually against the wall, "they're gon' see me as fair game. Women _always _do."

"God, you're so full of yourself," she muttered. "No one is goin' to see you as fair game, other than Tabitha. And if you _ever-"_

"If she knew 'bout us, there'd be no problem."

"_No,_" Rogue snapped, "Ah don't want _her _knowin'..."

"Why?"

"You know what she'll think? She'll think it's _tragic. _ That's what she'll think."

"Tragic?" he repeated, "'cause I'm y' charity case that y' _married?"_ he asked defensively.

"No! Because _Ah'm _the charity case that _you _took pity on..." she walked by him towards the door; she was so eager to run out on the conversation and he wasn't letting her away with it.

"Wait...what?" he asked, he caught her by the shoulder.

"They'll _all _think it," Rogue squinted, "poor Remy LeBeau, stuck with a girl he can't even kiss, clearly he's givin' her the _pity _treatment 'cause he feels _sorry _for her-"

"Jesus Christ," Remy ran a hand through his hair, "that's not what _they _think, it's what _you _think. Y' think that they're gon' think that 'cause _you _think it," he frowned. "Is that how y' still _see _my feelin's f' y'? Even _after _all we been through since the day I _tol' _y' how I feel 'bout y'?"

Rogue lowered her eyes guiltily.

"Y' shoul' know me by now, Rogue. I ain' _that _kind and _sympathetic_. I woul'n't go t' the _trouble _if it weren' worth it in the end. I don' _do _things that ain' worth it, Rogue. I wouldn't be _goin' _through all this fuckin' bullshit of bein' stuck in New Mutant _limbo, _and doin' _chores, _and livin' with these people if I didn' think _you _were worth it!"

She winced, she bit into her lip, she couldn't even meet his eye.

"I _love _you. I don' care who knows it. God knows why _you _do," he shook his head at her.

Rogue replied with nothing, her eyes were glued to the concrete floor.

"I've had t' play parts all my damn life, Marie. Play parts, hold secrets, never let it out who I am..." he shook his head at her, "I thought I was comin' here t' stop all that, so I coul' stop hidin' and jus' _be _wit' out havin' t' keep thinkin' on my toes or makin' up lies!" he reached for the car cover that had been sitting on his sage green Ford Zodiac for quite some time. It had been brought to Bayville during his time in St. Tropez but hadn't been driven yet, the plates still needed changing and he hadn't gotten around to it, mostly due to laziness.

"Where are you going?" she asked worriedly.

"I need some air," he muttered angrily, yanking the cover off and tossing it into the corner unceremoniously.

"There's air here."

"Yeah, it's a little _thick _right now," he grumbled, and with that, he climbed in, started the car; the engine took a few attempts to start the thing. He leaned out of the window, "hit the door for me," he commanded irritably.

"Remy..."

"Look, jus' hit the fuckin' door," he snapped.

Blinking at the way he'd spoken to her, she slammed her hand against the button, she turned her head away from him, her mouth pursed angrily. Remy tried to ignore the fact that as he drove out of the garage, he was _certain _that Jean-Luc had gotten into the back seat with him.

* * *

><p>Rogue felt dismayed when Remy did <em>not <em>appear back to the mansion for dinner time. As she took a seat at the table, her eyes swayed from person to person, not seeing his handsome face there. Immediately, concern began to gnaw at the pit of her stomach. He didn't usually miss dinner. In fact, since he'd joined the institute, he had _never _missed a meal.

_Guess he's still mad, _she thought anxiously as she ladled herself a bowl of vegetable soup; she wasn't hungry of course but she had to make it look like nothing was wrong. For hours now, the argument had kept running through her mind, as well as the realisation she probably _could _have handled it _way _better than she had done.

_All because Ah commented about Tabitha, _she thought. Part of her wanted to feel like it had been justified, and that perhaps he'd deserved it after _all _his accusations about Logan – shoe on the other foot. However...the other part of her just felt humiliated and very foolish and petty.

"Where's Gambit?" asked Tabitha after a few more minutes, she was dipping a large hunk of bread into her soup bowl, fingers getting unceremoniously dipped in the process.

"That piece of crap car of his in the garage is gone," commented Amara, she was delicately grinding pepper into her own soup.

Rogue muttered quietly, "that car is a classic." She felt her cheeks flush at the thought of having to _defend _it. She wished he was there now just to hear it.

"A classic?" asked Amara, blinking, "It's a hunk of junk...it's...what? A hundred years old?"

"Exaggeration much?" Rogue frowned, "sixty maybe."

"Yikes, that's older than I am," Hank joked, although no one laughed, he gave a sigh and composed himself. "Did he tell anyone where he was going?"

"No," Rogue said quietly, "Ah don't think so, Ah mean. Ah think he just went out."

"Maybe to do clothes shopping," Tabitha supposed, "Maybe he thought online shopping was a bad idea..." she looked at Rogue strangely.

_What you mean is, _thought Rogue darkly, _is that you think he thought shoppin' online with _me _was a bad idea._

"He never said anything about it," Rogue tore a piece of bread in half, she briefly glanced towards Logan who seemed somewhat thoughtful and almost concerned. She could see he had it on the tip of his tongue to ask but he said nothing all the same.

_Ah should have went after him, _Rogue realised. _Or insisted he stay...God, why did Ah just stand back and let him go? It's like St. Tropez all over again. How could Ah just _stand _there and let him drive out of here like that?_

When the meal had ended, Remy LeBeau had still not returned. Rogue had barely had time to leave the kitchen after eating very little of her dessert before Logan had practically ambushed her and took her to the formal living room to speak to her quietly.

"You're actin' cagey. What's goin' on?" Logan demanded.

Rogue raised an eyebrow at him, her best attempt to try and hide her guilt. She should have known better, her mentor always seemed to see right through her.

"Where is he?" Logan asked, folding his arms and looking at her expectantly.

"Ah...don't know," she said truthfully. "He went out."

"Just like that, he's been outside all of about _three times _since he arrived here but he just decided to go out on his own, huh?"

"Yeah, just like that," Rogue pretended to be more interested in checking the nearby end table for dust. There was none.

"How about we try that again?" Logan suggested, his expression dark and demanding. He wasn't stupid, he wasn't likely to believe that it was as simple as Remy deciding to take a pleasant trip out. She supposed she'd have lost all respect for Logan right then if he had believed it (although she'd been utterly grateful if he had).

"Ah don't _know _where he is, Ah swear," Rogue commented.

"Don't suppose you know anythin' about it, then," Logan shook his head at her in disgrace.

"We...might have had an argument," Rogue said quietly.

"About?"

"Private stuff," Rogue frowned at him.

"And you let him waltz out of here...no thought about what he might _do_?"

"Logan, Ah-" she tried, interrupted before she could get any further.

"Look, you know the score with him, he _has _to be watched right now. And I figured if you were _going _to stay hitched to the guy then you would have the _common sense _to know to keep an _eye _on him."

"Ah cant _stop _him from doin' what he wants, Logan. He has free will. It's not like playin' _The Sims, _Ah can't just turn his free will off and make him do what Ah want!"

"What was the argument about?"

"Like Ah _said, _it was _private_..."

"Rogue!"

"He's pissed 'cause he's sick of pretendin' that we ain't together or somethin'," Rogue commented, "he's sick of us bein' _banned _from havin' time together...he's sick of—"

"Wait..." Logan stopped her, "what are you _talking _about? No one _said _you couldn't be together. No one _said _you weren't allowed to have _time _together..."

"But-" Rogue tried again.

"If you want to be _open _about your _dating _him in front of the others, by all means, that's your business, do what you want. All we said was _don't _be sneaking around in bedrooms. I don't want to have to reprimand half of the kids here for spreading _rumours _about what you two do together behind _shut doors, _and we don't need the pair of you setting examples about what's acceptable beneath this roof. You two might be eighteen, most of the kids here _aren't."_

"Fine," Rogue replied uneasily.

"That's all the argument was about?" Logan asked. "No time _alone?"_

"You...you know what Remy is like," Rogue sighed, "he...he's a guy...Ah guess it's..._frustratin'_...Ah don't _know. _Ah'm not a guy."

"You two need to talk this out _sensibly," _Logan warned her. Rogue thought it almost hilarious that Logan's first instinct was to be _sensible _about things. Logan was usually action now, thoughts and sensibility later. "Now...I'm goin' to go out and look for your husband. If you want to come with me-" Logan began, he was interrupted just then by Rogue's phone which began ringing rather incessantly.

Rogue picked up her phone, the number wasn't one she recognised.

"Who is it?"

"Ah don't know..." she admitted uneasily.

Logan gestured to her, "answer it before that damn ringing drives me mad."

She tugged off her glove and swiped to answer quickly, "hello."

_"Is this Marie LeBeau?"_

Rogue blinked; it was the first time she'd _ever _heard her name put this way before by a stranger. She'd certainly been referred to as Mrs. LeBeau before, even _Alice Cullen _and _Alice LeBeau, _but never _Marie LeBeau, _the situation left her a little unnerved. "This...yeah, this is she..."

"_This is the emergency room at Bayville Hospital; your husband was in a car accident, Mrs. LeBeau."_

Rogue stepped backwards a little, startled, she felt her backside hit the end table, it toppled a little, an ornament falling on it's side and rolling off onto the carpet. "He...he what? When?"

"_Other than a few minor injuries, he's quite all right but he'll need someone to come and get him."_

_ "_Ah'll be right there," Rogue promised, she quickly hung up and looked towards Logan, "he...he..."

"I heard," Logan said, "come on. I'll drive."

* * *

><p>Remy LeBeau felt a little groggy. He'd taken a bang on the head, slammed it right into the steering wheel, but other than a few bruises he had made it out alive. The car however, he was sure was quite beyond redemption; he'd only caught site of it when they'd been moving him into the ambulance but it was so wrecked he was uncertain how he'd actually <em>survived <em>the wreck at all.

_Luck, _he supposed.

The doctor kept asking him questions, tried to establish what had caused the accident, if he'd blacked out or been using drugs. It was easy to say that he'd accidentally put his foot down on the clutch when taking a sharp corner, it was believable, especially driving in the right side of a car on a manual transmission car that was older than the doctor. Especially when it had been raining.

It wasn't quite accurate though, was it?

For the first few moments of his journey he'd been certain Jean-Luc had followed him; was there in the car with him, looking on from the back seat. But once he was outside of Bayville it almost felt as if the bastard had left him. It had made driving around in the country a little easier for a time, given him time to think about the argument with Rogue, given him time to think about how he was going to _apologise _for perhaps going a little off the handle.

Throughout the journey he'd spent time wishing he'd been able to just _explain _to his wife about Tabitha, about the things he and the blonde held in common, how Tabitha was likely to be the _only _one in the house who would _really _understand what it was he was going through in some ways. But it wasn't his secret to tell and it would have been unfair for him to admit to Rogue.

A secret like that, it was painful when others knew it, and it was _painful _to think of someone else telling _his, _he could identify with Tabitha all too well and it made him more sympathetic to her problem.

_Sympathy, _he had thought, finding it almost laughable the day he could _consider _himself sympathetic to anyone. Once upon a time, he was sure he'd have never cared. Rogue was probably a lot to do with it, he decided. Before he'd ever looked twice at Rogue, he was sure he'd never really cared about anyone other than himself.

He didn't even like the idea of _Tabitha_ knowing he was sympathetic; he supposed if she ever asked he could always make up an excuse. _Yeah, well, I have to keep your secret, be nice t' you...y' could blow it for me too, couldn't y'?_

Yes, he had that all worked out in his head. He could act like it was some kind of emotional blackmail that he had to be vaguely 'kind'...nothing more.

It had been just as he'd been thinking of that very idea during his return home, he'd intended to give a quick glance through the passenger's side window and Jean-Luc had been there in the passengers seat, looking smug, face a multitude of decaying tones of grey, eyes jelly-like and yellow in their sockets. As that moment had occurred, Remy had _felt _his adoptive father's touch upon him, and it had been then he'd lost all control of the car.

It seemed to have rolled, he'd worn the seatbelt (which had held up considerably well considering he'd had to fix it as best he could by wedging the mechanism in with a piece of cardboard from his cigarette packet). He was sure he'd felt every roll – five of them – and on the final roll he'd felt his head slam right into the wheel and then right into the side; he realised if he'd not rolled the window down so he could smoke it was likely his head would have gone into the glass too. He could have died.

For moments he had lay there, car on it's side, his head touching the long wet grass at the side of the road where it had eventually stopped; it had been almost soothing. Irony, he had thought. All the things to happen to him, all the fights he'd been in, all the times he'd almost been killed...and it had been a _car accident _that had nearly snuffed him out in the end.

Someone in a nearby car had seen the entire thing, stopped to help, called 911 and waited with him regardless of his being a mutant. He hadn't expected that kindness and it almost made him sad that at the time he'd been a little too stunned and groggy to ask who they were so he could thank them later. The ironic part he realised was that the kindest people, the ones who saved lives...they were always the ones who went _thankless._

The police were supposed to have come but hadn't yet; he wasn't sure why it was important they did, no one had been killed.

"_Remy!"_ he heard Rogue's squeal at the door, she came bolting through the emergency room, running between the rows of beds where other patients were being treated, semi-obscured by curtains. Her eyes were panicked, her face the palest colour of ashen he'd seen to date.

"I'm fine," he sat up and refrained from wincing in pain; the impact had sent a jolt of pain right through his back and he was reluctant to admit it because he was almost certain that it would only give the hospital cause to keep him in, and give the X-Men more cause to keep him _away _from joining the team. Besides, it was tolerable, nothing more than a twinge now.

Rogue skidded to a halt at the side of his bed, she reached out tentatively with her gloved fingers to his head, "you...you..."

"Yeah, head is a lil' swollen, eye looks a little black, it's jus' superficial...that's what doc said..." his eyes drifted behind Rogue to see Logan walking slowly over; why had she had to bring him too? Why couldn't she have just come alone to get him? It was bad enough having to _rely _on someone to pick him up without it being Logan.

"What happened?" Rogue asked, she gingerly moved his hair from his forehead to look at the swelling.

"I..." he gently pushed her hand away, any touch right now was distracting and excruciating; he'd had enough nurses and doctors prodding at his head as it was. "Put my foot on the fuckin' clutch..."

Logan stopped at the side of the bed, Remy felt him eyeing him critically.

"Car jus' wen' batshit, turned too sharp, I went over...banged my head..." Remy shrugged, regretting the shrug as a fresh spasm of pain danced along his spine. "It looks worse than it really is..."

Rogue chewed the inside of her cheek, "you'd...never make that mistake. You're such a careful driver..."

_Yes, I would, _he thought at her, wishing he could explain what had _caused _him to lose his usual careful precision. "I lost concentration is all..."

"You don't when you drive, Ah _know _that," Rogue frowned.

"I jus' did," he tried to explain, he could see the disbelief. She wasn't falling for it.

"You're lying..."

"I'm not..."

Her green eyes met his with such suspicion and right then he knew what she was thinking. And right then, he would rather she think it than assume he was a raving lunatic. "Have you...?" she asked, her lips were trembling.

He knew what a mistake it would be, but he didn't have enough time to consider the outcome and he was far too groggy to consider the consequences more thoroughly. All he knew was that if he told the truth it'd likely cause far more problems than _lying_ would.

"I...maybe had a few beers..." he lied quietly, he looked guiltily away from her, guilty for the lie and _not _the idea that he might have gotten behind the wheel after drinking.

"Remy, what the-?" she began, outraged.

"Mrs. LeBeau?" approached a nurse carrying a clipboard, "there's some papers I need you to fill out before we can discharge your husband..."

Rogue swept her hair from her face, her expression frantic, her cheeks seemed flushed with fury. "Yeah...Ah...sure..." she managed meekly.

Remy watched as Rogue followed the nurse away to somewhere they could fill out his discharge papers. He hadn't expected Logan to _stay._ He felt Logan's eyes studying him, without looking he could see that suspicious and almost curious look knitting wrinkles in that older-than-the-hills brow.

"Why did you lie...?" Logan asked after Rogue had left the emergency room.

Remy picked at a loose thread on the bed sheet he was lying upon, "I didn't."

"Don't be stupid, LeBeau. You think I wouldn't be able to smell it on you? You took me by real _surprise _when you actually kept _away _from the drink, even when you've had more than ample opportunity to go out at any time and get hammered," he stepped closer, speaking low so that no one would over hear. "You think it's funny? Trying to _punish_ Rogue?"

It hadn't occurred to him that it might punish her, it hadn't been the intention at all, and at that moment the argument and her starting it hadn't even registered. All he had wanted to do was avoid having to tell his wife that he'd seen a ghost...that he had been _touched _by one.

Remy tried to act blasé, "she started the damn fight. Maybe she needs somethin' t' think about."

"You think I won't tell her?" Logan asked with a snort.

"Yeah, y' probably will," Remy supposed, he pushed his legs off of the end of the bed. Every time he moved he hurt. He hoped that would ease off after a few hours. "Make it far easier f' y' t' get rid of my ass, woul'n't it? Make room f' y'self t' muscle right on in."

"I'm warning you..."

"Then warn me!" Remy snapped, "I've had enough o' idle threats loomin' over me, either do somethin' and have done with it or shut the fuck up. Kick me out for drinkin' if _that's _what it takes."

"You know I can't do that," Logan frowned.

"Then what?" Remy demanded, "reprimandin' f' playin' _mind _games? Y'all play plenty o' those wit' out _my _help, why shoul' one more make any difference," he uttered.

"Tell her the truth!"

"No," Remy muttered; he gripped onto the edge of the drapes around the area, he felt a little dizzy from getting up too fast. His vision blurred a little and behind Logan he saw Jean-Luc's silhouette standing there; it disappeared quickly, evaporating like mist. "Maybe it make her think twice about pickin' fights in future – especially when I weren't even in the fuckin' wrong."

"Don't think I won't be bringing this up to the Professor," Logan warned.

"Then do it," Remy uttered, he limped off to find Rogue, "but leave me _and _my wife the fuck alone."

* * *

><p>The drive home had been icy; Rogue had felt the tension in the car mounting, thick like glue, so strong she couldn't even open her mouth to ask how Remy was feeling as he sat in the back seat alone. She'd almost been compelled to go sit beside him there, but she was too angry with him for drinking again. She'd grown rather sick of this in St. Tropez, she'd thought he was over it, she'd almost believed his claims that he had <em>never <em>been an alcoholic.

_Eighteen is too young to be like this, _she thought with some distress as Logan parked in the garage. Her eyes fell on the empty space in the large garage where Remy's car had once been, where it had sat for weeks never used once. The police were supposed to have come to the hospital to talk with Remy about the car but hadn't shown; Rogue expected they'd turn up at the mansion with questions.

Oh, the added humiliation of _that._

That car was probably already in a crusher by now; Rogue had to admit she was ever so slightly sad about that, she'd almost grown fond of the damn thing, regardless of how hard it was to drive.

Remy sat quiet in the back, his expression dull.

"How's your head?" she managed, her voice was thick, she realised even to herself that she sounded like a different person. She supposed since she'd married the boy, she _had _become someone entirely different.

"Sore."

"Doctor said you can't take anythin' stronger than ibuprofen," Logan muttered, he turned the engine off, "we're supposed to keep an eye on you for the next twenty-four hours."

"Joy," Remy muttered.

Rogue got out of the car; she couldn't even look at him right now and so she walked ahead of Remy and Logan as they entered into the mansion hallway through the door at the back of the room.

Just as they got to foyer, Tabitha was coming down the stairs, her eyes fell on Remy, them seeming to turn into two large bright blue glass buttons.

"Remy...!" she gasped, she hopped down the remaining stairs swiftly, "what happened?!" she reached for Remy's face and weakly he put a hand up to nudge her away.

"Had a lil' fender bender," he muttered, sounding so slightly disconnected that it worried Rogue. It bothered Rogue that Tabitha's concern over him gave her more cause for concern than his injuries and mood.

"Your eye is black..." Tabitha ignored his reluctance to be touched and grabbed a hold of his face; she wasn't all that gentle by the looks of it either.

"Stop makin' a fuss," Remy said quietly, he pushed her away.

"Enough, Tabitha. Go put a pot of coffee on or somethin' useful," Logan commanded, "Leave the boy alone."

Rogue felt Remy look at her almost guiltily right then. What was it about him and Tabitha that gave him _that _look? Was she right with her suspicions? Did he have some interest in the girl? She certainly seemed to have some interest in him.

_Maybe he's right, maybe Ah should make it clear that we're together, _Rogue thought.

"You want me to get you an ice pack? Something for the pain?" Tabitha asked, ignoring Logan's command.

"Tabitha," warned Logan again.

"He needs someone to take care of him, look at him!" Tabitha gestured to Remy as if he weren't even _present _for the conversation.

"We're takin' care of him," Rogue said, trying to hide the irritation in her voice.

"Coffee," said Logan again.

"It's _nearly nine pm," _Tabitha blinked.

"So make decaff," Rogue muttered.

"Logan really wants a coffee, best not keep him waitin'..." Remy managed weakly, he looked so tired and impatient right then.

Tabitha nodded, "Yeah...Okay...sure..."

Rogue watched the girl jogging off towards the kitchen; her back and neck tensed at the thought of Tabitha's gushing over Remy.

"Yeah," Logan said suddenly when Tabitha had gone into the kitchen, "a cup of coffee would sure sober you up right now," he threw a look to Remy, "come on, you and I got a date with the Professor."

Remy rubbed his head, "right now? I really don' got the patience for this."

"Yes, now, and I don't care. Those who drive _drunk _don't get to say what they got the patience for."

Rogue didn't understand why the look between Remy and Logan was so awkward and strange; she felt there'd been words said when she had left to fill out forms, but neither seemed intent on elaborating and there was an unsaid rule that she _wasn't _meant to ask.

"Look, I'm tired...can't we jus' deal wit' this t' morrow?" Remy rubbed his head, "I got a killer headache, can't think straight as it is..."

Logan snorted, "fine. But you'll be going to the sick bay for the night so Hank can keep an eye on you."

Rogue hovered for a moment, "Ah...uhm...Ah'll go help Tabitha with the coffee," she said, more for an excuse to be away from the icy atmosphere between the two men than to actually _help _Tabitha with anything right now.

The kitchen was spotlessly clean as it always was after dinner had been served and most had retired for the night. Tabitha stood spooning grounds into the filter, back turned to Rogue.

Rogue wasn't sure what to say right then; she had to refrain from saying _back off, bitch. _She'd never felt so territorial about any boy since she'd fallen for Scott Summers which had now felt like so many moons ago. But this was different from feeling territorial about Scott...Remy was _hers, _they were married, and legally she had the _right _to tell women to keep their hands off him.

Tabitha must have felt Rogue's presence, or heard her; she turned, seemingly a little startled from her preoccupation with the coffee, "oh...hi," she said, she sounded a little bright, "you want coffee too?"

"Yeah, Ah guess," Rogue supposed. She wasn't certain it _was _the decaffeinated coffee Tabitha was using, but it didn't matter in the end. _Maybe Ah should be stayin' up all night just to make sure Remy is okay._

"So...fender bender?" Tabitha turned her attention back to the coffee machine, "he looks like he just got out of a fight with Mike Tyson or something. His head is all swollen...I mean, gets any worse, he could look like one of those Ferengi things out of Star Trek or something..." she laughed a little lightly; Rogue heard the worry in her voice all the same.

"He's _fine,"_ Rogue said, "he's just a little swollen and bruised. If he wasn't okay, the hospital would have _never _discharged him."

"All the same..." Tabitha closed the machine and went to fill the reservoir with water, "he needs taking care of."

"He'll _be _taken care of," Rogue assured, beginning to get rather irritable. "He's going down to the sickbay."

Tabitha stopped, "I just...I don't like the idea of him in pain."

"Neither do I, but what can we do?" Rogue asked through gritted teeth.

Tabitha paused, "I'll get him an ice pack," she decided.

"Ah can do it," Rogue moved over to the drawer where the reuseable icepacks were kept and pulled one out.

"I said I'll do it," Tabitha frowned.

"You're makin' the coffee," Rogue snapped, she didn't mean it to sound quite as nasty.

Tabitha blinked, "Jesus, what is _your _problem?"

"My problem..." Rogue repeated, she felt a little lost.

"I get it, he's your best friend or whatever, but like, you done _your _part, you went to the hospital or whatever and got him with Logan, right? Your part is over, I can take over now, you don't _have _to take care of him out of _obligation _or whatever."

Rogue swallowed hard, she wasn't sure Tabitha even noticed, the girl was so busy putting the reservoir tank back into the coffee machine. "Obligation..." she repeated quietly.

"Maybe it's not a _friend _he needs right now, Rogue," Tabitha said matter-of-factly.

Rogue drew her breath through her nose and tried to steady herself. _Ah knew it. Ah fucking knew she had a thing for him..._

Unable to help herself, she blurted, "He's...he's not...you know, _available._"

"What?"

"He's not for dating," Rogue explained, hating herself with each word, "You must have noticed, right? He _doesn't _date..."

"Not what I heard back when he was with the Brotherhood..."

"He was _never _with the Brotherhood," Rogue corrected, "and that was then. He doesn't date any more...he's..."

"He's what? He's gay?" Tabitha raised an eyebrow, "'cause that's not the impression I got..."

Rogue faltered, she didn't want to admit it, she'd never be able to explain how she could have this relationship with him, how it worked out, the physical aspects of it. She didn't want Tabitha's judgement on whether it seemed _unfair _to Remy to be in a relationship so limited.

"I get you're probably like threatened, 'cause it's like, yeah, if any girl dates him he'll have less time to hang or whatever," Tabitha shrugged, "But-"

Rogue could imagine the idea of Remy _dating _Tabitha and that was what hurt. It made _sense, _it was likely. The entire thing left knots in her stomach and a tightness in her chest. Before she'd even thought of what she was saying, she blurted the words out, "He's married..."

Tabitha stopped, her finger poised on the on button of the machine, but never pressing. "He's...married?" she asked, her eyes were a little wide, "he's...like...not old enough."

"Yeah...well...we're from the south, so...marriage kind of happens young, you know," Rogue said thickly, almost guilty for stereotyping _everyone _from the south. It had almost been enough to admit it right then, almost. She realised right then Tabitha might have picked up on the fact she had said _we_, but she seemed to have missed it entirely.

"Why hasn't he said?"

"It's...complicated, Ah guess," Rogue swallowed the foul taste in her mouth that the words had left. She almost thought Remy might be angry with her, but on reconsideration, she wondered if he might be _happy _that she'd come out with something.

"I guess that's why he wears that ring..." Tabitha shrugged, "I mean...I thought it was weird, but then I figured, _hey, _he probably can't fit it on any other hand. I mean, I've worn rings on my _wedding _finger before and never thought twice about it, I didn't think it meant anything."

"Well...it kind of does," Rogue sat down at the table, guilt wanted to swallow her up whole. "He's...faithful to his wife so..."

"But she's not _here," _Tabitha pointed out with a strange frown.

Rogue felt the utter despair of not being able to say _yes Ah am. _She hated feeling disappointed that Tabitha didn't even _guess_ it could be her and more than that, she felt disturbed about the thought that Tabitha might be so selfish that she'd _take _a husband from his wife if it meant getting what she wanted in the long run.

"And he's sort of...I mean...he's lonely, I can tell."

Angry knots twisted in Rogue's stomach; dinner was not sitting well. "How?"

"He's so quiet...sad a lot...I guess," Tabitha shrugged. "He needs someone."

"He _has _someone, though," Rogue pointed out, her blood starting to boil.

_Ah knew this was gonna happen, Ah knew he'd start turnin' heads. If she tells him she likes him...Ah'm screwed...she's his type and there's no way Ah can compete with her._

_ "_Well, yeah, he has someone I guess," Tabitha turned the machine on, "But...I'm talkin' someone who really gets him."

Rogue wasn't sure exactly _what _the girl meant by this but it left her feeling very uneasy. Why did Tabitha get the impression she understood Remy better than anyone? Better than _her_?

"Ah get him," Rogue managed weakly.

"Yeah, but, well...you're...you know..." Tabitha shrugged, she got the cups out.

Rogue felt sick, she had to swallow it back. On top of the stress of Remy being in a car accident, on top of the stress of knowing he'd been drinking _again, _she did _not _need Tabitha judging her for her _powers_. "What do you _mean _by that?" she tried to not sound defensive.

"You're his _buddy, _there's things he probably _won't _tell you..." Tabitha supposed. Rogue felt it was more than that, Rogue _knew _Tabitha had meant to reference her powers.

"And there's things he'd tell _you_?" Rogue asked pointedly, trying to get past her humiliation.

"Maybe..." Tabitha said quietly, "anyway, coffee will be ready in like ten minutes, I can bring it to you if you like-"

"No thanks, Ah don't really feel like it any more," Rogue stood up slowly and left the kitchen, fighting the urge to cry.

* * *

><p><strong>End of Part Thirteen<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Dun dun dunnnnnnnnnn. <strong>

**Drama, Drama, Drama. Delicious Drama. The ghost seems to be getting stronger, doesn't it? Can't be good...**

**I'm sure a few will think it's unlikely Remy would admit to being DRUNK (even when he wasn't) knowing the complication it could bring to his life but lets assume it was panic rather than smarts...(head injury, he's not thinking too clearly lol). I'm not sure what I'd admit to in the same circumstances...**

**Sure there's also going to be a bit of wtf-ness about Rogue coming out with admittance that Remy is married but doesn't bother to elaborate further, lol. Who else smells complication? Tabitha reeks of it...it's probably the brand name of the perfume she wears (bearing in mind, she probably stole that perfume too).**

**Thanks to all for the amazing reviews I've had lately for the past few chapters, it's nice to know the closet scene was amusing (if Jean hadn't been the one to find him, I'm sure there'd have been some "coming out of the closet" comment made or something about skeletons in the closet not usually having flesh attached to them). What is it with this boy and closets? lol. It may be a fetish for all we know.**

**Anyway, I hope you all like this update for the weekend. Off to watch a few episodes of An Idiot Abroad before bed. Hope you all have a fantastic weekend, love you all and highly appreciate the interest in the story and all the reviews. You all rock :)**


	14. Part Fourteen

**BENEATH THE SURFACE**

**Part Fourteen**

* * *

><p>"Why didn't you tell me?"<p>

Remy glanced up from the book he was skimming over in the mansion's library. Knowing he would be going to Bayville high, he'd started looking over a few history books just to try and brush up on what he knew so that he didn't seem quite as uneducated when the time came. He'd been thinking perhaps that he might like to bow out before even attending the school. He didn't feel this experience was going to do him any good.

"Pardon?" he asked, he glanced up at Tabitha who was standing near the bookcase he was sitting on the floor by, she was leaning against it casually, her hip against the wood, arm raised. Her hair fell in soft curls to frame her tan face.

"That you're _married,_" Tabitha blurted.

Remy blinked, "ssh!" he reacted, more on knee jerk of _Rogue's _reaction to someone knowing more than his own actual concern about it. Even if he was still a little angry with Rogue, he didn't want to cause any more arguments. "Keep it down."

"Sorry," Tabitha smiled apologetically, "It's just...I mean why didn't you _say _so?"

He tried to gauge how exactly she knew this. She hadn't just assumed it, he could tell from the tone of her voice that this was a fact she knew for _sure; _she sounded far too confident about it to have guessed.

"How y' get t' hearin' about this?" he asked. It struck him that perhaps the Professor and Logan had been discussing it and the girl might have overheard. She certainly couldn't have come to the conclusion alone.

"Rogue told me," Tabitha sat down on the floor folded legged, she picked up one of the history books he'd been looking at and began flicking through it casually.

Remy was astounded by this revelation. So finally she'd given in and told someone? Admitted that they were married? Little trickles of relief started dancing through his veins, one less person to worry about spilling the beans to now. "She did?"

"Yeah, last night after you guys got home," Tabitha said, "I have to say, I was a little shocked."

"Most probably woul' be," he decided, thinking that it would be more the idea of _Rogue _being married than _him._

"So...how come you never said?" Tabitha asked a little curious frown knitting on her forehead, "you've been here weeks now, and not ever even _mentioned _any of it."

"It...was complicated I guess."

"Yeah, that's how Rogue put it," Tabitha gazed at some illustrations of the American civil war, "I don't get what's so complicated about it though."

"It jus' is," Remy replied quietly.

"How?"

"Rogue not tell y' why?"

"No," Tabitha shrugged, "so tell me about her."

"Hmm?"

"About your wife."

"What do y' mean _tell _y' about her...?" Remy asked vaguely, he closed the book he was holding.

"What's she like?" Tabitha asked. "Where is she?"

Remy stared at the girl, his mind went dull and the colour seemed to drain out of the room. For one moment he'd felt relieved and vaguely happy that perhaps the secret was out, that he and Rogue could stop _pretending_. But no, everything was still a damn lie. Rogue had told Tabitha for _some _reason that _he _was married. She hadn't specified to _whom._

_I guess she did it t' make sure Tabitha knows I ain' available, _Remy reasoned.

Remy sighed, "she's...she's not here..." he supposed, he looked around the room absently. He supposed literally she _wasn't there. _Not in that room, anyway. "I don' know where she is right now, exactly," he added honestly, feeling a little angry with Rogue and it coming out in his tone.

"It...didn't end on good terms then, I guess?" Tabitha asked.

"It...didn' end," Remy responded.

"But you came here alone to start your _life _over and she's not even here."

"I'm not alone," Remy responded meekly.

"I guess that's true," Tabitha agreed, "You have all of us."

"Yeah...the Professor...the instructors..._Rogue,_" he said, wondering if he said it pointedly enough the blonde might catch on. She didn't.

"And me," Tabitha added, she smiled sweetly.

"Yeah...I guess," Remy agreed reluctantly.

"So...what's she like?"

Remy chewed the inside of his cheek thoughtfully, he'd never had to _describe _Rogue to anyone before. No one had ever bothered to ask he supposed, but then, the only people who really knew about the marriage other than some poker acquaintances were the Professor and Logan, and _they _already knew Rogue better than he himself did.

"I'm picturing blonde, leggy, tan, blue eyes, perfect smile..."

Remy wondered if the girl was imagining her _own _face when she described whom she thought he may be married to. "She has brown hair...green eyes...and no tan," Remy admitted, "she's tall, I guess...tall enough. Slim..." he rubbed his head, trying to think, "she has this...dimple thing on her chin...soft voice...real soft and sweet...like...thick molasses runnin' down a stack of pancakes..." he said, almost feeling wistful for a moment.

"Does she get you?" Tabitha asked quietly, she ran her fingers along the illustration in the book absently. The question was an odd one, he stared at the blonde, trying to determine how to answer. In some ways, he supposed Rogue did get him, and other times he was certain she definitely _didn't._

"Sometimes," he answered.

"Does she _know?"_

_ "_Know?"

"About your dad?"

_ "Ssh,"_ Remy hushed her quickly, suddenly realising what the blonde was referring to. He looked around the room, wondering if anyone might have walked into overhear; the library was very rarely ever in use as far as he could tell; most of the kids probably found their reading material online these days. "I don' need people knowin' my fuckin' business!" he hissed.

"No one's here," Tabitha said, "they're all outside at the pool."

"I don' care, jus' keep it down."

"Fine...whatever..." Tabitha lowered her voice. "So does she?"

"She knows."

Tabitha tilted her head, "About everything?"

"She knows enough."

"So you've never told her about it?"

"There's things y' jus' don' tell the person y' wan' spend the rest o' y' life with," Remy tossed his book aside with the pile of others on the floor.

"Why not?"

"Jus' 'cause," he quietly remarked, trying to be calm.

"'Cause...?"

"'Cause," he repeated, he glanced at the pile of books, he wasn't sure he was even absorbing anything from this, and the interruption wasn't helping with his concentration.

"'Cause?" Tabitha asked once again.

"'Cause it be in the background o' _everythin' _y' ever say or do, that's why," he retorted. "It'd _always _jus' be there. Trus' me, once y' tell y' love somethin' like this, nothin' is _ever _the same."

No, things had never been _quite _the same since the revelation about Jean-Luc had been made. Rogue had always looked at him with an expression of concern, but since the moment she'd found out _something _had happened, she'd never looked at him in quite the same way.

He'd considered these things over and over for weeks, he'd tried to tell her but it just wasn't coming out. Too many doubts and concerns over how the relationship would change if she found out the rest. _How would I begin t' be comfortable around her if she knew about that stuff? How would _she _feel about me?_

"Oh," the blonde responded, her eyes dropped to the floor. "I...wouldn't know...I mean, I didn't _tell _anyone before..."

Remy wasn't surprised, he knew from experience why she wouldn't. "Y' mean I'm the first y' ever tol'?"

"Yeah," Tabitha remarked quietly, "and...I guess that's only because you figured it out...because you _knew_."

"I see," Remy responded, not altogether surprised.

"I looked at some online support groups and stuff once...you know, for people like us..." she began, her expression thoughtful.

Remy looked away, he hated that thought. _People like us. _ Who were the _people like us?_ Damaged hurt children who grew up to be _damaged hurt adults?_ For all the time he'd gone through this he'd never thought of looking at support groups online. "Yeah?" he muttered.

"I never posted or anything, I just...I read a lot of stuff, and people's thoughts about things but...I just couldn't find it in me to actually talk to anyone about it."

He snorted, "why bother? Jus' a lot of virtual _hand holdin' _and people tellin' y' that it weren' y' fault."

Tabitha blinked, her mouth fell open a little, "what do you _mean _by that?"

"Nothin'," he began picking the books up to put back where he'd found them.

"What do you mean about it being _your _fault...?"

"I didn' mean _anythin' _by it," he snapped, "Look, I got a headache; I coul' do without the _interview."_

_ "_Okay then," Tabitha said quietly, she slowly got up from the floor, "but like..." she paused for a moment and shrugged, "You know if you want to talk about it..."

"I won't," he replied, feeling at that moment he never would.

"Okay...but if you _do, _you know where to find me."

"Don' hold y' breath waitin'," he said in a whisper as she left the library; as the door shut behind her, he saw that behind the door, Jean-Luc had been there, standing by the bookshelves with the biology books. He looked away and quietly muttered, "y' ain' there."

* * *

><p>That night at dinner, Rogue felt things at the table between her and Remy were slightly uncomfortable. She was still angry with him because of his getting drunk, and he seemed to be feeling slightly awkward judging by how silent he was. He was nursing a headache, she could tell just by the look on his face; it resembled the same look he'd worn during his hangovers. She wondered if it <em>was <em>a hangover since he'd admitted to drinking the night before.

It was strange, she thought, how he didn't seem quite as rough around the edges as he normally was when he was hungover. Other than his bruises, and slightly swollen black eye, he wasn't pale, his voice wasn't raspy and he didn't have slight tremors. She hadn't even noticed the smell of beer on him at the hospital or in the car, she wondered if he'd managed to hide it somehow.

_He might have fooled me, but he'd have never fooled Logan, though, _she realised.

The table was buzzing with talk of school, it was four days from starting, everyone was in a mix of excited and _not _excited to be going back and she was definitely in the _latter _camp. Something told her Remy was also there.

Every now and then, she'd notice Tabitha gazing over the table at Remy; the look in her eyes said it all. The girl was _falling _for him, Rogue knew the look well enough, she'd seen it in Jean's eyes with Scott, she'd seen it in Kitty's eyes with Lance Alvers, and she'd more recently seen it in her _own _eyes in the mirror. Rogue wasn't certain that telling Tabitha the secret about Remy being _taken _had made any difference to her feelings on the subject at all.

_Ah'm gonna lose him to her, _Rogue thought in distress. _There's more she can give him, and she has the personality and the beauty and the charm. She'll entice him with one little thing and Ah'll be in the dust. If he can fall for someone like me, then fallin' for someone like her is gonna be cake._

Thankfully at that moment, Remy seemed too preoccupied to even give the girl a second glance. If he wasn't looking at his plate of pasta and pushing it around idly rather than eating, he was looking to one particular area of the room. At one point, Rogue thought he'd been staring into space but his eyes didn't have that glazed distant look about them as far as she could tell (although sometimes it was difficult to be certain with unique eyes such as his). He seemed almost focused on something at times but what it was exactly, Rogue couldn't pinpoint; she'd glanced to her left a few times to look at the area in the kitchen by the counter where he was looking but there was nothing there other than a large decorative jar with tri-colour pasta twists arranged in rows by colours.

_Probably thinkin' whoever did that must have the most borin' job alive, _Rogue thought as she chewed her pasta thoughtfully.

"Aren't you hungry?"

Remy glanced to Jean, who had been the one to ask the question. She'd been the one to cook the meal and Rogue gathered she felt a little defensive when someone wasn't particularly eating or enjoying the dish. "Hmm?"

"I said _aren't _you hungry? You haven't eaten since breakfast, and you only had one pancake then."

"I'm eatin', I'm jus' a slow eater," he put a forkful into his mouth, he chewed, his eyes moving back to the area he'd been looking again. He frowned a little.

"I was told you didn't have a problem with spicy food...did I make it too spicy?" Jean looked at her own plate. "I mean, it's burning the mouth off of me, but I have a weak tolerance for it...I thought it'd be fine..."

"Hmm?" Remy blinked and looked back to her.

"Is it too hot?"

"No, it's fine. It's real nice."

"I'm cooking tomorrow," Tabitha chimed in, Rogue rolled her eyes inwardly, annoyed that the girl _always _had to try and get Remy's attention somehow.

"What you making?" asked Ray casually.

"I don't know yet, something...exotic, maybe," Tabitha supposed, she glanced towards Remy and gave a little smile, "what's something exotic that you like, Gambit?"

Remy didn't seem to hear her, he was so focused on whatever it was behind him. Rogue glanced over again, still nothing there. It was starting to unnerve her a little.

"Gambit?" Tabitha asked.

Feeling a little push of her jealousy slipping through, Rogue answered for him, "Remy likes _gourmet _food."

"Gourmet?" Tabitha chuckled, "for real?"

"And he likes weird gross foods...once he ate escargot in front of me, it was vile," Rogue made a face.

"Stop it," Remy said quietly, it was _so quiet, _under his breath so much she just barely caught it.

Rogue turned to stare at him curiously, wondering why he would want her to stop talking about the times they'd _dined _together. Normally wouldn't it have _hinted _at their relationship? Wasn't it the kind of thing he always _wanted _of her. What was it about that damn side of the room?

"What's escargot?" asked Rahne, wrinkling her nose.

"Snails," said Amara, matter-of-factly, "still in the shell. I've had it once when I went to Paris with an aunt. Escargot is to die for."

"Ew," said Bobby, making a face, "you'd pay to eat something someone scraped off of their shoe and stuck on a plate? What kind of crazy snob are you?"

"I am not a snob," Amara retorted.

"Stop it," Remy said again, this time his voice a little louder; it went almost unnoticed (other than by Rogue) because Amara and Bobby had started arguing at the table, and Logan was trying to get them to quieten down.

Suddenly, without warning, the pasta jar - the one that Rogue was _sure _Remy had been staring at - flew from the counter right over the table; Remy ducked and it hit the wall behind him, shattering on impact, a spray of glass and pasta flying everywhere, rattling on the ceramic tiles.

"Whoah!" cried Kitty, getting showered with glass and pasta, she jumped from her seat and shook the stuff out of her hair, "what the heck-"

Logan threw a look to Jean, "what happened?"

"What do you mean?" Jean blinked, her mouth fell open, "I didn't do that."

"You must have lost concentration or something," Scott stood up to the closet where the brooms were kept to retrieve a brush to sweep the mess up.

"There's glass everywhere..." Amara whined. "It's in my pasta!"

"No one take another bite!" warned Logan.

Jean looked at the mess on the floor, her pretty green eyes were squinted, she shook her head, "I didn't do this," she said again.

"One of you prank this?" Logan asked, looking at the younger students suspiciously.

"No!" a few of them spoke up, seeming quite offended.

"Okay...whatever, it was an accident, it doesn't matter who did it," Logan sighed frustratedly, "Just clean it up, I'll go pick up some pizza."

Rogue got up and went to help Jean and Scott who were already sweeping up the mess. Rogue went about picking up the larger pieces of glass, her gloves making it an ideal task for her to do without getting cut.

She listened to Scott and Jean whispering between themselves, struggled to hear it over everyone else telling Logan what kind of Pizza to get.

"Look, it's okay to admit a mistake every once in a while," Scott said softly to his girlfriend.

Rogue shifted her gaze to the two slyly, dropping chunks of glass into her open gloved palm.

"Scott, I swear..." Jean whispered, her voice so quiet.

The others were made to leave the room immediately so the glass could be cleared up, Rogue, Jean and Scott being left to clean up the mess. Once the others were gone, Scott whispered less.

"There's nothing wrong with it if it _was _you, you know..." he said to Jean again. Rogue thought it almost amusing he was so quick to accuse her, but on reflection, Rogue wasn't sure who else could have accidentally done it, and Jean had _certainly _done things like this before.

"I _swear _to you," Jean frowned, "it wasn't me...I stopped making mistakes like that a year ago. "Anyway...I...I think..."

"You think...?" Scott urged.

"I _think _it was Gambit..."

"Gambit?" Scott asked, seeming almost amused.

"He kept staring over that way...didn't you see? I thought I saw him looking at the jar...then it came _flying _off of the shelf..." she whispered.

Rogue spoke up, "Remy isn't telekinetic."

Jean turned to look at Rogue, she seemed quite embarrassed that they'd been listened in on. "You don't know that for certain."

"Ah've known him for a while now...Ah've _absorbed _his powers...he's _never _been telekinetic. Ah would know."

"Maybe it's a new power manifesting," Jean spilled the contents of her dustpan into the nearby trash. Jean shook her head, "all I'm saying is that this definitely was _not _my fault. If it was, I'd say so."

Rogue snorted, "and all _Ah'm _sayin' is, it wasn't Remy. Don't accuse people of shit when you don't know for _sure _they did it_._"

Jean sighed, "I suppose you're right about that," she threw a pointed look to Scott, "right?"

"Uhm..." Scott coughed a little, "right."

* * *

><p>Remy pushed his bedroom door shut quietly and stood there against it; his chest was pounding hard and his nerves were alight with anxiety. His head was pounding with worry and strain. He'd never <em>thought <em>it were possible. He'd always heard ghost stories, about things moving, about seeing ghosts _physically _throw things around. He'd never believed it before.

He'd never _seen _it happen.

Not until dinner.

It had seemed so unbelievable, seeing a _dead man _sweeping his arm across the counter and _throwing _that jar at such a velocity that it had caused the damn thing to shatter and cause uncooked pasta and glass to practically rain across the room.

Everyone had seen it, everyone had reacted. It had been _real. _They might have not seen Jean-Luc do it, but they had _seen _the thing hit the wall. It was real, everything he'd been seeing was real.

And if it was _real _it was _dangerous._

He stood there for several moments trying to understand it all. The thing had flown right for his head, had they noticed that? If he hadn't ducked it'd have knocked him out entirely, perhaps even killed him.

_He's tryin' to kill me. Yesterday in the car...today...bastard wants me dead, _Remy thought shakily, he rubbed his throbbing head, the swelling was still so very tender. His phone went off in his pocket, he checked it, trying to stop his hand from shaking. It was a text message from his wife.

It read: _**Where are you?**_

He took a moment to try and focus on relaxing, and responded: _**My room**__._

He moved away from the door and sat on the mattress, sweeping his hand through his hair, fighting to calm himself, fighting to breathe steadily. He was so good at this normally, but then he'd never been _haunted _by a ghost capable of _physical _feats before.

It was a few moments later when, without even knocking, Rogue entered his room, her expression slightly cautious as she stepped in, glanced out into the hall to make sure she hadn't been seen and then shut the door behind herself.

"Hey," she said, her voice low. She looked around for a moment, located the doorstop (he'd bought it at the mall) and she wedged it under, effectively wedging the door shut so that no one could barge in from the other side.

"Hey," he said, trying to sound as _normal _as he could capably sound. If Jean-Luc had been present in the room at that moment, there'd have no way been able to do so right then.

"Why'd you run off?"

"Wasn't hungry...that pasta the redhead made was vile," he responded. In truth, the pasta had been half-decent although he didn't want to admit it; Rogue always took it to heart when he found _anything _another woman made as delicious and he'd learned that quickly. "And the salad...Christ, I mean, what the _fuck,_ I seen wet paper towels less limp than that lettuce. And fuck...Y' supposed t' _dress _a salad, not _drown it._"

Rogue lowered herself to sit on the mattress slowly, "you okay? You seem a little...weird..."

"I'm fine..."

"'Cause you kept staring into that area of the kitchen..." Rogue admitted, "and then the thing flew off the counter..."

"Y' sayin' it was me?"

"No."

"'Cause _clearly _it were Jean," he accused coldly.

"Yeah, clearly," Rogue nodded; the way she stared at him left him wondering if she actually believed it or not.

"She's telekinetic...had t' be her."

"Yeah," Rogue seemed to agree.

"Or...like Logan said, one of them damn kids did it, I mean they all got tricks...Bobby likes t' prank a lot. He could have done it."

"Totally," Rogue said.

"Why y' here anyway? What about the _rules,"_ he reminded. It wasn't the _mansion _rules he was referring to but the rules _she _had set them about being alone together.

"Ah just thought...we could spend a little while together before the pizza arrives," she shrugged. "If you like, Ah mean...Ah can leave if you want..."

Remy tried to gauge the situation but his head was swimming too much with what had happened downstairs. "I don' wan' y' t' leave," he assured. No...he definitely did _not _want to be alone right now, not with the thought that Jean-Luc was around and capable of physical feats now too.

"Logan is gonna be gone for a while, you know..." Rogue said quietly, her cheeks pink, she bit down on her lip.

"Yeah?" he asked. "How long for?"

"A while..." she placed her hand tentatively upon his thigh, an uncertain tremble in her touch. "Drive to the nearest pizza place is twenty minutes alone...then he has to wait for it all to be made...then the drive back..."

"Why didn' he jus' call it in?"

"Pizza places in town know about the mutants livin' here, they get freaked out deliverin'...so they don't come out any more."

"I see."

"So...we...maybe have an hour."

"An hour, huh?" he watched her fingers, "what y' think I'm gon' accomplish in an hour?"

"Nothin'..." she raised her other hand and pushed it against his chest firmly. He was almost momentarily amused by her poor seduction technique. She'd been much more convincing in St. Tropez.

He leaned back a little, watching her unbuckling his belt, almost curious to see how this was going to play out. He wasn't certain he could get in the mood thanks to his anxiety and the thought of being watched by a ghost, but he was interested to see just what Rogue's motives were tonight, "okay...so...what y' think _you _gon' accomplish?"

"Well..." she breathed, she raised her eyes to his.

"Y' gon' seduce me?" he dared, still thinking the thought of Rogue trying to seduce him might be slightly amusing. "Y' gon' make me putty in y' hands...?"

Her eyes softened a little, her hands were working at the button of his jeans. "Maybe..."

"Yeah...and maybe if y' were good enough at it, then who knows... maybe it distract me from askin' 'bout why y' tol' Tabitha I was married," he spoke up.

Rogue stopped what she was doing immediately, her eyes guiltily met his, her cheeks paled. "Hmm?" she asked, trying to sound innocent.

"Y' tol' Tabitha I was married," Remy repeated. "Funny though that y' didn' tell her t' _whom _exactly."

"Remy..."

"Jesus, Rogue," he snorted, "I mean...y' go on at _me, _warnin' me t' keep secrets, and then y' drop that one t' Tabitha of all people. And y' don' even keep _me _in the loop?"

"What was Ah meant to do?" she groaned.

"About _what?" _he raised an eyebrow.

"About _her, _Remy. She was standin' there talkin' like...you and her are gonna get together. Ah had to say somethin'..."

"So y' thought it would be helpful t' tell her I was _taken_?"

"Well..."

"Y' could have jus' said me and _you _was an item...why the fuck are y' complicatin' things?"

"'Cause Ah knew what she'd say...Ah knew she'd wonder _why _someone like you would be with someone like me," Rogue swallowed hard.

Remy sat there looking at his wife, trying to determine if this was true or not. He was certain there would be judgement of some kind or another but he didn't particularly care and didn't understand why she did. "T' be honest, I'm not sure that y' tellin' her I'm married gon' make much of a difference. All she sees is that I'm married t' someone who ain' around. Y' think that's gon' stop her?"

"It _better _stop you," Rogue warned.

"Marie...I would never-"

"Yes you _would,_" Rogue frowned at him, "you _have _before..."

"Since _when?!"_

_ "_Since when?! What about with _Belladonna?_"

"She kissed me-"

"Ah don't want to hear it," Rogue retorted, "Just...stay away from Tabitha..."

"Pardon?" he blinked.

"She's bad news, and Ah know she likes you..."

"Y' dictatin' t' me who I'm allowed t' be _friends _with now?"

"Why would you _want _to be friends with her? What the hell do you even _talk _about?"

"We talk about stuff," Remy replied simply. _Stuff I can't talk about wit' you, _Remy thought. He wished he could voice it but he knew the looks he'd get from Rogue if he did so. He knew the _argument _that would ensue.

"What _stuff, _Remy?" Rogue frowned.

"What stuff?"

"Define _stuff!"_

_ "_Oh, I dunno," he snorted, "probably the same stuff y' talk about with _Logan."_

Her mouth dropped, "you are _not _gonna start accusin' me of-"

"Y' standin' there accusin' me, chere, I can give as good as I get," he said quickly. "_Don't _accuse me of cheatin' or sneakin' around on y' if y' can't take it y' self. "Y' the one _complicatin' things _here, chere, not me. I'm tired o' keepin secrets. I came here t' _get away _from keepin' secrets. I'm _frustrated, _Marie..."

Her eyes averted from him stubbornly, her mouth curled into a slight pout.

"I coul' _live _wit' not gettin' laid...wit' never bein' able t' be _alone _wit' you...it's the not bein' wit' y' at _all."_

"Remy..." she groaned.

"Lets tell everyone," he suggested, he tried to simmer his anger down as much as he could.

Rogue shook her head.

"Rogue, I've played it y' way for long enough, I can't do this much longer."

"Please..." she begged softly.

"What y' think they gon' do? What y' think they gon' _say?"_

She had no answer for him, he saw the hurt and worry in her eyes; part of him hated putting the look on her face while the other part of him felt it all too necessary.

"Y' know I would do _anythin' _f' y', chere, but this..." he sighed. "Y' know...since we came here, y' been...distant. Even when we been t' gether. It ain' like it was..."

She seemed to chew the inside of her cheek, eyes to the floor.

"In Louisiana..._you _were different...y' were so-"

A sudden knock at the door startled them both and they turned to stare at it.

"_Remy? You in there?"_

Rogue stood up quickly at the sound of Tabitha's voice, her expression was livid, her face flushed red with anger. Remy stood slowly, watching as Rogue panicked in looking for a hiding place. She spotted his open window and she hastily moved to climb outside of it, he hoped that the ledge would be wide enough for her to stand on.

"_Get rid of her!" _Rogue hissed under her breath to him.

Remy picked up his iPhone from where he'd left it and he dialled Rogue's number – the only way to ensure his call looked genuine as he'd even listed her as _Marie _in his contacts – as he unwedged the door and opened it to Tabitha who was standing at the other side. "I'm on the phone," he mouthed to her silently, he waited for Rogue's answering service to pick up.

Tabitha raised an eyebrow, not offering to leave or let him have privacy for the call.

"Y' were like another person when we were back in Louisiana t' gether," he decided to continue with what he'd been saying to Rogue. "Strong and kind...and y' didn' _care _'bout what people thought..." he admitted. "But now...y' playin' games and keepin' secrets. Sometimes I think the reason y' won' even tell anyone 'bout us is that y' so embarrassed about me," he stated to the answering service, "Y' put too much stock int' what others think and I think it's time they knew about us..." he paused, looking towards the window and wondering if Rogue had moved along the ledge to find a way inside another window or if she was hanging outside there listening. He softened his voice to the voice mail, "All I want is t' be wit' y'..."

"Remy...are you okay?" Tabitha asked quietly, her expression worried.

Remy shook his head, then spoke into the phone, "I won't wait around forever for you to figure out if you really love me or not," he said, he wondered what Rogue's reaction might be at the call.

Tabitha leaned on his dresser, her expression so very interested now.

"Think about what I said," he made a point of hanging up the call and throwing the phone angrily to the mattress.

"Are you all right?"

Remy frowned, "it look like I am?"

"Was that...?" Tabitha asked delicately.

"My wife," he replied, "yes."

"What happened?"

"She...she hasn't told her family and friends about _us _yet," he muttered truthfully, "it...it's...gettin' real hard t' deal wit'. It's like she's embarrassed about me or somethin'..."

"That's...really shitty."

"Yeah," Remy agreed.

"What's shitty?" came Rogue's voice from the hallway. Remy thought it rather impressive how she'd managed to get through another window and into the hall so quickly.

_ She must have rushed t' make sure me and Tabitha didn't get t' be alone._

Remy looked away from Rogue, feigning heartbreak, "I'm not sure my wife really _loves _me..."

"Remy..." Tabitha said softly, she touched his arm. Remy spied Rogue's displeased expression in the reflection on his mirror. Tabitha turned to Rogue, "he just talked to her on the phone..." she explained.

Rogue tilted her head and folded her arms; she seemed to be struggling to come to grips with what was going on. "Ah'm sure she does, Remy. She wouldn't still be _married _to you if she didn't," she pointed out. Remy wondered if that was a _threat _almost.

He swept his hand through his hair, sighing, "I'm not so sure...she was so _quiet _on the phone...wouldn' budge," he explained. _Probably 'cause she wasn't there to answer, 'course._

"Why didn't she tell anyone about being married to you?" Tabitha asked in confusion, "because you're a mutant?"

"Because of my reputation," he supposed, he feigned a look of devastation, "maybe 'cause I've done so many stupid things...or maybe...she jus' fell in love wit' someone else. Maybe she jus' marry me 'cause there was no one else, f' the sake of it, t' know what it felt like."

"Don't be stupid," Rogue muttered. "You're just being paranoid is all."

Tabitha _didn't _offer anything in the way of consolation that his suspicions may be wrong, Remy was certain that was only going to frustrate Rogue further.

"Look...I...I really need some time alone t' deal wit' this..." Remy gestured to the door.

"Maybe you shouldn't be on your own right now," Tabitha admitted.

"No, he needs a _lot _of time alone," Rogue decided flatly, "He has a lot of thinking to do."

"Please," Remy gestured to the door again, "tell them I'm gon' skip dinner, that I'm a lil' tired. Gon' jus' go to sleep."

"Okay," Tabitha nodded, "I'll let them know."

Remy stood at the door beside Rogue as Tabitha headed off to give the news that Remy wouldn't be joining them for dinner. When she was out of earshot, Rogue pushed him roughly.

"What the _fuck?!" _she demanded in a quiet hiss.

"Y' wan' play games wit' people, Rogue? Y' know what, _I _can play games, too," he said with a restrained smile, "night, chere," he said quietly and he pushed his door shut with her on the other side of it and kicked the wedge beneath it securely so she couldn't get back in. He almost expected her to yell at him through the door but not a word was uttered.

He'd _won _this round.

* * *

><p><strong>End of Part Fourteen<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks to everyone for their awesome reviews. I hope you all enjoy this short update. A few more small developments here. Is Remy right? <em>HAS <em>Rogue changed since Louisiana? Is Jean-Luc getting stronger? Will Logan remember the Pepperoni meat feast? So many questions! **

**Don't worry that the Prof hasn't demanded to see Remy yet about the car accident, it hasn't been glossed over or forgotten about, ;)**

**Anyway, off to do a bit of chapter 29 before bed :) Love you all and hope you have a fantastic weekend :)**


	15. Part Fifteen

**BENEATH THE SURFACE**

**Part Fifteen**

* * *

><p>Remy slept poorly that night, his night full of broken sleep thanks to rather disturbing vivid dreams.<p>

No...not dreams. _Memories._

When he'd awoken at four am from one of the worst, Jean-Luc's silhouette had been looming over his mattress, standing looking at him like some huge black giant looming over a tiny village about to be trampled.

When he'd switched on the lamp he'd put on the floor next to the mattress, he hadn't been there of course (not that he was able to _see_ anyway) but Remy hadn't been able to get back to sleep nonetheless.

Although he _wasn't _meant to be getting out of bed at that time of morning, he went for an early shower and went to the mansion's library, tried to focus on reading more of the history and science books in there in the hopes to prepare for high school. Sitting at one of the tables in there, reading and _trying _to focus, he eventually doze off without intention; when he woke up, he could smell breakfast coming from the kitchen not far down the hall, the scent of coffee was strong, beckoning him.

Sighing, closing his books but not bothering to put them away, he stumbled tiredly to the kitchen, finding he was the last to arrive; there was very little left at the table. He dropped himself into the only seat available, it being corner-wise to Rogue, who was _pretending _to not even notice his presence, and he grabbed a piece of toast from the plate in the middle of the table.

"Sleep in?" asked Tabitha, she was playing absently with a loomband bracelet.

"Y' know how it is when y' sleep deep," Remy yawned a little; it was much easier to lie than to _admit _he hadn't slept all that much at all. "Becomes a struggle t' get out of bed."

"How's...things?" Tabitha asked.

Rogue raised her eyes from her plate and glanced between the both of them, her eyes squinted just a little.

Remy knew at once what Tabitha was asking, and he knew at once it would be _foolish _to try and broach the subject in a room full of people (especially those who didn't know what Tabitha knew), and even _more _foolish to talk about it in front of Rogue. "I don' wan' talk about it," he said quietly.

Rogue looked back down to her scrambled eggs, she pushed them around on her plate a little absently. She didn't seem all that hungry this morning.

"You got any plans today?" asked Tabitha.

"I-" Remy began, not sure how he was going to answer. It seemed to him Tabitha was _looking _for reasons to hang out with him and he thought it wise to try and make up some kind of excuse before she could ask.

"Professor wants to see you in his office after breakfast," Logan said to Remy, he didn't even look up from his paper.

"About?" Remy asked; he already _sensed _what this was going to be for. He'd been waiting for this meeting since yesterday; he was surprised it hadn't been broached as of yet. Trying to hide his anxiety about the subject, he picked up a fork and helped himself to some of Rogue's scrambled eggs (as there were none left in the serving dish), much to her disdain.

"How should I know?" Logan snorted, "just go."

Rogue pushed the plate towards him, seeming rather put out by his behaviour. She said nothing about it. Remy almost thought to argue that she hadn't been eating them anyway, but he didn't need drama this early in the day.

Taking another bite of the eggs, Remy shrugged. "Fine, I'll go."

"So, what do you have planned?" Tabitha asked again.

"Rogue's gon' help me figure out what I shoul' be bonin' up on before goin' back t' school," Remy replied.

Rogue turned to look at him questioningly, "Ah am?"

There were chuckles at the end of the table from Bobby and Jamie. Remy could only imagine it was because he'd said 'boning', which to them was far too suggestive with their immature sense of humour.

"We gon' be in the same classes, ain' we? Y' gon' know much better what I shoul' be lookin' at 'fore I go there. I don' wan' go there lookin' like an idiot."

"If you don't want to go to Bayville High looking like an idiot, then you should naybe think about getting some new clothes," Tabitha smirked, "and a haircut."

"Tabitha," warned Ororo, "there's nothing wrong with his clothes _or _his haircut."

"Ah like his haircut," Rogue said quietly, she sipped at her orange juice, Remy noted her eyeing his hair; he felt slightly pleased she disagreed with Tabitha, and even more so that she was looking him like that.

"Yeah, but it's not really _in _or anything," Tabitha pointed out.

"What, because it's not a _Beiber _cut?" Rogue sneered. "Not everyone wants to look like one of the Beatles."

"He doesn't even _have _his hair like that any more...but like, a crew cut would be kind of hot..." Tabitha reached over and pushed Remy's hair away from his forehead to thoughtfully examine it as she held it up a little, "hair like Channing Tatum...that'd be _so _good on you...it'd be sexy."

Rogue looked away in disgust, "Ah think Ah just threw up in my mouth a little."

Remy shrugged out of Tabitha's touch, and combed his fingers a little through his hair and ruffled it, it'd taken _months _to grow out after accidentally singing it thanks to Pyro's powers, "it took me eight hours o' sleep t' get my hair t' look this bad, I'd appreciate if y' stop tryin' t' make it look neat and respectable."

"Just trying to help," Tabitha said cheerfully.

"Right," Rogue muttered under her breath.

"You should really consider a hair cut though," Tabitha said, thoughtfully still examining him, her eyes soft.

"Yeah that ain' gon' happen," Remy muttered, "I got ears like Will Smith, they stick out a mile wit' short hair."

Rogue laughed under her breath at this admission, "Well...Ah didn't want to _say _anythin'..."

"Ouch, I think y' jus' broke my heart a lil'," Remy pouted at Rogue.

Rogue gave him a warning expression. She didn't like _that _comment, he felt slightly smug about it too.

Tabitha brushed his hair away from his ear curiously, "they're not so bad," she supposed.

"Yeah, when the hair is hidin' them," Remy pushed her hand away the second he felt her fingers brush against his skin; it made him feel immediately uncomfortable, it caught him by surprise somewhat too. He turned to Rogue quickly, making a point of letting her _know _he was dismissing Tabitha's _clear _attempt to flirt. "So y' gon' help me, right?"

"Ah suppose," Rogue gave in, expression a little sour.

Remy polished off the plate of eggs quickly, "I'll text y' when I'm done with the Professor and we can meet in the library," Remy said, he stood up. Without meaning to, he gently caressed her arm. He felt her tense up a little and she turned to look at him a little dangerously. He realised he'd probably made it look a little obvious, he wondered why he should even care – it wasn't like anyone else even seemed to _notice._

As he walked to the Professor's office, he wondered how angry Rogue really was with him about last night and what he'd admitted to Tabitha about how he thought his wife didn't love him. The look on her face at breakfast had been enough to convince him she was still quite irritated; he was certain it wouldn't be until they were alone he would get an earful of complaint about last night.

He knocked gently on the Professor's office door and waited to be invited in; upon entering he saw the Professor was sitting at his desk, a cup of coffee poised in his hand. He seemed to have been reading a newspaper, but it had been set aside.

"Logan said y' wan' t' see me 'bout somethin'," Remy said, he closed the door behind himself and stood there.

"Yes, please sit."

Remy sat down upon the chair opposite the Professor's desk. It reminded him oddly of being pulled into the principal's office when he had gone to school years before. It was almost _always _because of his poor behaviour, and when it wasn't, it was because of the teachers dislike for _mutants_ meaning he was usually picked on for the _littlest _thing. "Somethin' wrong?" he asked. _Here it comes, _he thought.

"We have to discuss something rather important," the Professor stated calmly.

"I'm guessin' y' referrin' t' my lil' fender bender..." Remy decided the direct approach.

"If by _fender bender _you mean the accident that _could have _killed you and left your car a wreck..." the Professor began, "then yes."

"I knew y' was gon' wan' see me sooner or later," Remy admitted.

"I wanted to talk to yesterday, but I wanted to do some checking before I made any rash decisions about the situation. You see, when you first came to the institute, I did warn you that _one _single incident with alcohol would be _all _it took for your dismissal."

"Yeah, you did," Remy responded. Was this it? Was he _really _going to be dismissed for a thoughtless lie? Not like he could take it back now, he supposed.

"However, this is a rather...complicated case, and I'm sure you know why."

"Not at all," Remy lied.

"I checked the hospital toxicology report...there _was _no alcohol in your system."

"Mus' be some mistake," Remy dared to say. He hated feeling that lying about this was _still _easier than admitting the truth about Jean-Luc and his _attempt _to kill him.

"No, there's no mistake. Even _Logan _couldn't detect a whiff of it on your breath..." the Professor assured. "So dismissing you would be rather unfair."

"Then I don' see the problem," Remy said carefully.

"The problem is," the Professor began, "is that you _lied _for some reason."

Remy looked away, "I lost control of the car."

"How?"

"It was a pretty shit car...I put my foot on the clutch on a corner," Remy replied.

"There weren't any corners there," the Professor frowned, "Logan drove up there yesterday to look at the area the accident occurred; the road was perfectly straight."

Remy tried to think clearly how to fabricate anything believable, right now, his mind was drawing nothing but blanks.

"I had the car looked at, and other than a rather large sum of money hidden in the seats – which I'm assuming you _were _aware of – there was nothing unusual."

"Yeah, I knew about the money," Remy replied, "I put it there."

"It was a rather interesting balance to be hiding in a car."

"It was emergency money...Jus' in case my accounts were seized or hacked...I had t' have a backup plan. My...family weren' the most _honest _o' people. They also weren' the smartest when it came t' knowin' where I'd hide hard cash."

"Well...I've had the money placed in a safe for the time being until you should need it," Professor Xavier stated quietly.

"I'm surprised the police ain' been on my case yet 'bout the accident."

"I've taken measures to ensure they didn't get involved," the Professor replied.

"What happened to the car?"

"It was taken to a junk yard, I was assured it was beyond repair."

"Damn. Will I end up wit' my license bein' revoked?"

"I feel like you're trying to change the subject."

"Oh?"

"Yes...the subject that you've lied for some reason about what happened..."

"I didn' lie," Remy replied, "my foot did slip on the clutch..."

_ It slipped 'cause the ghost grabbed me...but y' ain' likely t' believe that, _Remy thought dully.

"I'm not sure I trust that," the Professor replied.

"Trus' what y' like," Remy replied calmly.

"Remy...I think there's more going on here than you're willing to talk about."

"That's y' own opinion."

"If...there is something going on, then you're well within your _right _to have certain secrets. However...I do think we've come to the point where you _need _to be talking to someone."

Remy groaned inwardly, this he had _not _been expecting.

"I've made you an appointment with a Doctor for this afternoon."

"A doctor..." Remy repeated, he frowned, "y' don' _mean _a doctor, y' mean a _shrink."_

_ "_A _psychiatrist," _the Professor replied, "someone you can speak to...about any issues that you feel you can't share with myself...or Rogue. Someone who will _not _divulge any of your secrets."

"Y' so sure I have secrets," Remy snorted.

"Everyone has secrets," the Professor replied.

Remy stared down at the desk; he hated the idea of this and yet, the thoughts of what had happened last night came rushing back; Jean-Luc at the kitchen counter throwing that jar. And then in the car, when he'd felt him _touch _him. And the dreams...the nightmares. Maybe it _was _time to see someone.

_Ain' a psychiatrist y' need, it's a parapsychologist...but hell, 'psych' is in the title, that's got t' be good for somethin', _Remy thought.

But still, to give _in? _To _admit _he almost agreed it was time that he had to speak to someone about his _problems?_

"Y' can't make me go," Remy said quietly, forcing the tiniest hint of insolence in his tone.

The Professor tilted his head, Remy felt himself almost being _read. _Yes, the old man _sensed _this was a game, an act. "I'm...going to have to _insist _on this..."

"Insist, huh?" Remy dared.

"For your own sake, and the sake of my students."

"And...I suppose y' gon' tell me that...if I decline, then I got t' leave...and y' know I ain' gon' leave 'cause I ain' willin' t' leave my wife...Rogue would _never _come with me if I had t' go," Remy sighed, pretending to give in almost reluctantly, "I got too much t' lose by leavin'," he looked away, "Y' got me over a barrel, don' y'?"

The Professor raised an eyebrow at him.

Finally, Remy succumbed, "Fine. I'll go. But I don' know what good it gon' do. An' jus' 'cause I'm goin' _don' _mean I _agree _wit' this."

"Your appointment is at two pm. Logan will drive you."

"I'll drive myself," Remy replied.

"No, you've been banned from driving for the time being. And right now, I'd prefer to have you chaperoned, to make _sure _you do attend this appointment. Logan will take you."

"Does it got t' be _him?" _Remy demanded.

"Yes," Professor Xavier replied.

"I don' wan' _anyone _else knowin' about this," Remy stood up slowly, "especially not Rogue."

"You have my word."

* * *

><p>Rogue wasn't sure how to feel today. She was caught between her worry that Tabitha was about to steal Remy from right under her very nose, and her anger that Remy had decided to declare he was having <em>marital <em>problems to the same girl.

With every step on her way to the Library after Remy's text, all Rogue could think of was Tabitha's _shameless _flirting with him. The way she'd _touched _him, Rogue felt her blood boil having seen the blonde's petite little _bare _fingers skim Remy's left ear. He'd seemed a little flustered, Tabitha had seem delighted, Rogue had felt furious.

_Thanks to his sayin' his marriage was on the rocks, all he's done is make it _easy _on her, make her think he's fair game now!_

She had to pause at the door of the library for a moment to calm herself down, she was almost afraid she would stomp on in and demand why he _let _Tabitha go on like that at Breakfast at all. Rogue wanted to believe he was just being polite, trying not to be too hurtful and rejecting but there was a part of herself that was still replaying over and over in her head the image of him _kissing _with his ex-girlfriend in Louisiana, and it still stung. If he'd do _that, _flirting back or _accepting _Tabitha's advances was well within the realm of possibility.

Trying to push it out of her mind, she stepped into the library. Remy was already in there, standing on one of the ladders to reach a high shelf, he was gazing at the spines of books, expression a little lost.

"What did the Professor want?" Rogue asked as she pushed the library door shut so they could talk privately.

Remy didn't even turn to look at her, he ran his finger absently over the spine of a book, "jus' wanted t' see me about all this high school shit."

"What about it?"

"He jus' wanted t' see if there was anythin' I was worried about...y' know, 'cause it's been so long since I went t' a school..." he picked a book out and looked at it.

Rogue thought this a rather odd reason the Professor would ask to see him, she couldn't recall him caring so much about the school situation when it had been any one else. Rogue moved to a nearby table and she sat upon it, "Are you worried about anythin'?"

"Yeah," he remarked, "that I might need t' fuck a teacher t' pass a class and she's gon' be over sixty wit' tits down t' her knees. D' y' think I'd be able t' get viagra on prescription or woul' I have t' steal it from the drug store?"

"Very funny," Rogue frowned at him, "did he give you a list of your classes yet?"

"Not yet," Remy replied, "but he said me an' you gon' have most o' the same classes...except I ain' gon' be doin' home economics," he muttered.

"Shame, you'd probably be able to show the teacher a thing or two," Rogue supposed.

"Yeah, sure I'd be able to show her a good few things she don' know," Remy smirked suggestively.

Rogue groaned, "do you have to be such a pig?"

"Y' the one who mentioned it," he came down the ladder.

"By the way, _thanks _for complicatin' things even _more _with Tabitha," she muttered.

"Way I see it, I didn' complicate it at all."

"How you see it that way?" Rogue raised an eyebrow.

"'Cause I've admitted that my marriage is on the rocks, then I'm gon' be a little...y' know..._gloomy, _in need of _consolin'..."_

"And then Tabitha is gonna _swoop _right in and give you _all _the consolin' you need?" Rogue dared, "probably with her _hands _down your pants."

"No," Remy frowned at her.

"She had her hands all over you at breakfast..."

"And I rejected her, didn' I? As _nicely _as I coul'."

"I suppose," she snorted.

"Y' know, _you _coul' always swoop in and give me consolation 'fore blondie gets the chance," he pointed out, "all on the guise o' bein' a good friend and it eventually _escalatin' _t' real feelin's or somethin'. "

"Why would Ah do that?" Rogue asked coolly.

"Y' wan' play this game f' ever?" he demanded. "'Cause I don'. I'm _sick _of the way things is gon'. Y' don' wan' play _married _life in front of everyone then fine, but we gon' have t' play _boyfriend and girlfriend. _eventually...no _pretendin' _t' hate each other, no _stayin' away _from each other, no actin' like _nothin' _is goin' on between us."

"What if Ah don't want to do that?" she asked, feeling a little attacked.

"I'm gon' _tell _them."

"Who's gonna believe you?" Rogue dared.

Remy put the book down on the table, "everyone."

"Sure."

"I got _pictures, _Rogue."

"Pictures," she repeated, a vague laugh escaped her lips. "You have pictures..."

"Pictures of y' in a weddin' dress...Y' think they gon' think it all lies then?"

"We can't tell anyone about bein' married!" she hissed quietly, her eyes wide.

"Fine. What about pictures on the yacht? What about the pictures I got of y' in that little black dress y' wore the night we went t' that nightclub?"

"How-?"

"I took 'em when y' wasn' lookin'," he commented. "Okay, so, it won' prove much, but they gon' wonder what y' had t' gain by dressin' like that. Had t' be f' _someone._"

"That's blackmail."

"Y' been practically blackmailin' _me,_" he commented, "forcin' me t' keep our secrets, makin' me feel like y' gon' hate me if I don't. Tables turned. Time t' stop."

"Remy..." she groaned.

"And now is a perfect time," he leaned on the table, "we gon' be at school t' gether...gon' make it real easy t' look like it all happen _naturally. _We'll be spendin' all the time t' gether in the same classes, eatin' lunch t' gether. It'll look like a high school romance."

Rogue sighed.

"Y' was the one who said y' wanted t' start slow, build up a relationship. We'll do it all jus' like that...lunch dates at school, I'll take y' t' whatever dances there are...I'll flirt wit' y' in front of the others...it'll all fall in t' place."

"Yeah," Rogue snorted as she swung her legs absently at the edge of the table, "then the others will ask why _me. _Why would someone like _you_ want someone you can't_ touch_?"

"Why _wouldn't _I wan' y'? Y' beautiful..."

"Pfft," she snorted, frowning as she looked away from him.

"Y' _beautiful," _he repeated, this time more forcefully, "and interestin'...and funny...and y' strong and..."

"And?"

"And I trus' y'..." he finished.

Rogue wondered just how much he could trust her when there was things he still wouldn't admit to. Every time they were in the same room together she could practically feel a wall of secrets between them separating him from her entirely.

"Any of these books gon' be helpful f' school?" he asked, gesturing to what he'd left on the table, deciding to drop the subject before even giving her a chance to respond.

"Ah...uhm..." she dropped her eyes to the table and studied the books for a moment, a little distracted by his sudden question about them, "yeah...they're fine..."

"Good," he picked up the three of them and put them under his arm, "I'm gon' go read in my room f' a bit. It's a lil' dark in here..." he looked to the corner for a moment, Rogue felt there was something he was looking at...was it the mark on the wall? There was a slight scorch mark on the wall that Scott had left on there a long time ago accidentally with his powers; it had been buffed away but still showed a little.

Rogue watched him leave, feeling the departure was strangely sudden; had he done that deliberately to stop her from arguing with him about his idea? She stood there alone in the library trying to grasp the situation. The entire discussion had left her even more irritated than before. She didn't like that now _he _was making all the rules when it came to how their relationship was going to be. He'd accused her of complicating things but she couldn't help but feel _he _was the one complicating things right now.

She got up and went upstairs to his room, intent on giving him a piece of her mind on the subject. His room door was open, and he was sitting on the mattress on the floor, the books not even opened yet, he looked strangely annoyed as she felt although she couldn't imagine from what.

"How come _you _get to make all the decisions?" she asked suddenly.

"Pardon?" he lifted his eyes to her curiously.

Rogue stepped into the room and closed the door behind her, wedging it shut. "You...you picked the day we got hitched, and when, and where...you picked the hotel, the place we ate, the place we went after...every time we went out to eat, _you _picked it, and the villa...and everywhere we went...it was always _your _decision..."

He rolled his eyes at her, "sure it was."

"When we've been together even...even _alone..._it's always _your _decision when and where...you never let _me _be the one to decide..."

"I let you decide in the car, didn' I?" he pointed out.

"Sorry, am Ah supposed to be _thankful _that you were agreeable that we _not _screw around in a car after _you _initiated the whole thing?" she looked down at him, the way he stared up at her, his dark eyes, the way he looked almost intrigued with the subject.

"No, jus' pointin' out that y' made a decision and we went with it," he shrugged.

"Just _once _Ah want to say when and where and how things are done, Remy! Is it too much to ask? Ah've went along with _everythin' _everyone wants my entire life!"

"And I ain'?" he snapped. He got up and went to the window to look outside, he leaned there, sighing, "that's why we work t' gether so well. We both had our lives dictated f' us. That's why we get each other..." he trailed off, his expression changed, he was focused on staring at something.

Rogue watched him for a few moments, what was it out there that he was so focused on? She moved over to look over his shoulder; outside Logan was giving martial arts training to Amara, Rahne and Tabitha. Even with her extra weight, Tabitha looked rather fetching even in a loose fitting t-shirt and leggings. Rogue watched Remy, was it _Tabitha _that he was so interested in?

_He likes her, Ah see it, _she thought in despair. _Probably thinkin' about the things he could do to her...the kind of things he probably _couldn't _do with me. Don't let her distract him...stop lettin' him _be _distracted by her!_

She turned him towards her, "Ah want to be with you..." she announced, trying to sound as bold as she could.

He looked at her, his expression just a little blank.

"Right now..." she breathed, her _own _breath taken away by the sudden decision.

"Right _now?" _his expression slightly confused, she understood he didn't understand her _bold _advance, had to ask himself _why._

"Right...now..." she said, trying to sound as sure as she possibly could about it. "In...here."

"But...what about the rules? What if we get caught?"

"Logan is outside...he'll be a while, he's not going to hear us..." Rogue said pointedly, "it's...an opportunity..."

His eyes softened a little, "and it's a firm decision?"

She gave a nod, her stomach fluttering a little at the thought of her own proposition, at the thought of the discomfort, and the awkwardness. He certainly hadn't enjoyed it like that, she'd been able to tell.

He lowered his head, and spoke softly to her, "y' sure about this?"

Rogue slowly nodded, thinking of how much it would make the difference to their relationship, how much it might distract him from Tabitha. He wasn't likely to go looking for sex elsewhere if he got what he needed from his wife. At least she hoped that were the case.

There was a brief moment of gazing into his almost hypnotic eyes and her telling herself that there was nothing bad about _this _decision and then it strangely became a hazy blur. She couldn't remember him undressing her, maybe it was because she was too focused on worrying what Tabitha might be thinking about the marriage Remy had told her was failing.

Sex was still awkward and uncomfortable; he took so much care with everything, sometimes so slow and deliberate when he undressed her or touched her (he'd stolen latex gloves from Hank's medical supply cabinet much to her surprise), that it frustrated her. She'd expected him to be a little less careful and a little more sure of himself but he was still so delicate and slow. It didn't hurt, but it certainly didn't feel _pleasurable _as she'd always been led to believe it was supposed to be. Being close to him, holding onto him, it was the only _real _enjoyment she took from it; the feel of his hot breath on her lips, the way the soft fabric of his t-shirt brushed against her bare belly.

By the time _he _had climaxed, she still hadn't. They lay there against each other afterwards, his clothed body pressed against her half-nude body, his arm wrapped lightly around her. She lay her head against his chest and listened to the rhythm of his heart coming down through his soft t-shirt

Sex itself hadn't made her feel much closer to him, nor secure about their relationship, but she found it strange how laying there with him afterwards _did. _ That quiet moment, his breath tickling hair, his heartbeat slowing beneath her ear. There was a comfortable soothing silence about it, a familiarness about it that she was sure no one else would ever understand, that she was sure no one else would _ever _feel with him in quite the same way. How many women had he lay like this with before?

"Y' feel okay?" he murmured softly.

"A little...achy," she replied honestly; she was almost worried about admitting it to him.

"Achy how?" he queried.

"Just...achy," Rogue twisted neck and raised her head to look at him, he looked slightly worried, his face was flushed from the activity despite it hadn't been exceptionally vigorous, his hair was slightly sweaty. She couldn't explain why that made her ache in ways that the sex hadn't. She'd watched him almost the entire time, the concentrated expressions on his brow, the way his cheeks seemed to tremble when he was close to climax.

She wondered how long the act had taken, if Logan was still out there with the girls giving them their martial arts training. They'd be caught soon if they weren't careful. She found her anxiety rising in the thought that even if they weren't _caught _that Logan still may _smell _sex on her. She wanted to shower quickly before he had the chance.

Rogue grabbed her underwear and swiftly pulled them on, "Ah better get out of here before someone finds us...Logan will be finished training the girls soon..."

"That's it, then, y' give me a booty call and then y' dump me like yesterdays garbage, huh?" he teased, although she heard the disappointment in his tone that she was going to leave so soon after the act.

"Ah have to, we can't risk gettin' caught."

"I know...I know," Remy ran his fingers absently up her back, stroking the cotton of her dark purple shirt gently, "can I ask somethin'?"

"Sure..."

"If it _sucked _would y' tell me?"

"Hmm?"

"If I was lousy again?"

Rogue paused. No, he wasn't lousy, she hadn't sensed that. It was more his restraint that seemed to make it feel rather anti-climatic. Still, for the sake of avoiding disappointing him, she said softly, "it didn't suck."

"How come y' didn't _come_, then?"

"Remy...Ah don't want to talk about this," she sighed frustratedly. Why did he have to ask such irrelevant questions?

"I _do,_" he responded, leaning up a little.

She pulled on her pants, falling silent, she didn't want to elaborate on the question he'd asked before.

"We shoul' be over this by now...not bein' able t' talk 'bout this..." he reminded her.

"Ah know that," she commented quietly, suddenly feeling embarrassed and shy.

"I guess wit' us it's gon' take time t' get better," Remy sighed, he lay back on the mattress. "It's...it's real different wit' you."

She paused, listening to him, to the strangely wistful sound of his voice.

"Gon' sound real strange but..." he drew an invisible pattern on the middle of her back, she felt the pressure of his fingers through her shirt. "Y' make me feel _inadequate_."

Rogue blinked and turned to stare at him, she felt blank with this confession. "_What?" _she asked with a slight gasp.

_ "_Kind of girls I be with in the past...never real shy about sayin' what they want or how they want it. They reactive and vocal, y' know? Guess I always jus' gravitated t' the girls who weren' no stranger t' a man..." he supposed, he looked her in the eyes, his expression soft and serious, "but you..."

She stared at him worriedly, wondering what his comparison was going to be, how _horrible _it was going to make her feel.

"Suddenly...I get t' be wit' y' and...everythin' I ever knew 'bout sex...it has t' go out the window..." he reached up to her hair, twisting a lock thoughtfully through his fingers, "everythin' has t' be different and careful...thought out, y' know? And you...y' so still and y' confused and a lil' unsure...I see it in y' eyes...It's like...learnin' how t' be wit' a woman f' the first time all over again, almost..." he buried his hand in her hair and pulled her down towards him, looking her in the eyes, "y' make me feel a _virgin," _he said with a vague laugh, the words so quiet, almost as if this were a secret he were sharing.

"Sorry..." she said, not sure how to respond.

"It ain' a bad thing," he supposed, he rubbed her back gently, "I jus'...hope that it ain' gon' make y' think that somethin' is _wrong _or...that my heart ain' in what I do...'cause the truth is my heart is there more than y' would think it is..."

Rogue searched his eyes, finding herself wondering just how _true _these things could be. How excited would he be if he was with Tabitha? Would it be passionate and wild? Would his heart be in _that?_

"It's jus'..." he sighed a little, "makin' love is so differen' from havin' _sex_ wit' a stranger..."

"Is...that what you think it is, then?" she asked, she ran her fingers absently across the edge of his collar absently. "Makin' love..."

"What would you call it?" he asked curiously.

Rogue thought about it, thought about to get him to care more about _her _than Tabitha. "Bein' married..." she supposed. "Just...actin' out a part of...married life Ah guess...bein' a wife..."

He smiled almost serenely; it was how right at that moment she _knew _she'd said the right thing. It had been a while since she'd seen that kind of blissful happiness on his face. "Y' better scoot 'fore Logan come t' find y'..."

"Yeah," she sighed, she pressed a kiss to the index finger of her right glove and touched it to his lips, "Ah'll catch you at dinner."

"Marie?" he asked, just as she'd gotten to the bedroom door.

"Hmm?"

"Y' f' got y' boots."

* * *

><p><strong>End of Part Fifteen<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>A quick start of the week update. Not too raunchy for some hopefully (tried to be tasteful). Chapter was probably a bit short but a few things happened anyway. Who hates Tabitha more now? Who laughed at the Channing Tatum reference? Sometimes it's fun just to put these little things in.<strong>

**As always I appreciate all the awesome and thoughtful reviews. You're all so awesome and sweet to take the time with your comments (me voila had a lot of interesting points in todays review, it was a joy to read :) )**

**Anyway I'm off for some sweetcorn chowder for supper before bed. Hope you all have a great week. Love you all. :)**


	16. Part Sixteen

**BENEATH THE SURFACE**

**Part Sixteen**

* * *

><p><strong>** Just going to state for the record, clearly I'm not a psychiatrist, a psychologist, therapist or counsellor of any kind. I simply did the best I could, I didn't want to go harassing people for advice on the "psychiatrist" aspect of the discussion so forgive me if the discussion seems vague or wrong, I can only do my best. :) **<strong>

* * *

><p>"Mr. LeBeau."<p>

Remy stared towards the fishtank, there was something strangely soothing about the way the fish were slowly swaying back and forth across the length of it, their beautiful fan-like tales flitting like frantic little butterfly wings.

When the professor had announced he'd made the appointment for Remy to go to a psychiatrist, Remy had never imagined the psychiatrist was going to be a _woman. _Remy had sat there in the waiting room somehow expecting some kind of old gentleman with a beard and a balding head; he had an image of someone not too unlike _Sigmund Freud _locked in his imagination.

_Was that deliberate? He pick a woman 'cause he thought I wouldn' be able t' handle a _man _shrink pokin' around in my head?_

Remy hated admitting ever to himself that he was _nervous _or _anxious _about anything, but in the waiting room he had been. He wasn't sure what to expect from all this, what kind of stupid questions were going to be asked. Logan had been beside him, waiting; Professor's orders, chaperone on command, no negotiations. Remy supposed it was his own fault for lying about being drunk to Rogue and Logan; if he'd lie about that then he'd lie about _attending _the appointment for all the Professor knew. They had to be sure.

It was because of Logan's being there that Remy held himself still in the seat in the waiting room, making sure that his foot didn't have so much as the chance to nervously twitch. He pretended to be more interested in playing with his phone than looking curiously around the rather modern and slightly clinical waiting room. It was hard to pretend he was glued to _Angry Birds, _but somehow he'd managed to do so without Logan seeming to pick up any of the anxiety. At least he was sure he'd gotten away with at least.

And then, when he'd been told '_Dr. Forbes _will see you now', he had _not _expected to walk into a huge modern and minimalist psychiatrists office to find his _shrink _was a woman.

She was older, blonde, reminding him of a slightly haggard Grace Kelly, only less delicate and slightly more sturdy with her joggers legs, slightly thick upper arms stretching her sleeves and her calloused hands. Her woven beige suit was immaculate, her hair was expertly styled and her makeup was a little too dark for her age.

"You seem rather distracted," said Dr. Forbes.

"Sorry," Remy said, he eyed the tank, he'd been standing there since the introductions, tuned out when Dr. Forbes had started talking about what the appointment was for, "did y' know there's a dead fish in y' tank?"

"It's not a dead fish," said Dr. Forbes, she stood up and walked over to massive six foot long fish tank where Remy was standing. "It's a plastic one."

Remy tilted his head and eyed the thing, it looked rather convincing, especially the way the thing floated on it's side at the top of the water. "Why y' keep a _plastic _fish?"

Dr. Forbes folded her arms casually, her expression rather focused as she watched the fish, "It's...going to sound rather strange."

"My life is one big mess o' strange, I'm used t' it," Remy assured.

"One of the fish died months ago...I didn't notice until I was in a session and couldn't remove it until three sessions later, I was just far too busy. For some reason, when I removed the fish, the others began to behave rather oddly..."

"Oddly?" Remy scoffed, "what kind of odd behaviour a _fish _gon' have?"

"Not eating, hiding in that little cave in there..." Dr. Forbes explained, "perhaps it might seem foolish, but I did wonder if perhaps the fish _missed _the company of the one whom had perished...sensed the lack of it's presence. I replaced it with this plastic replica...and ever since the fish have been fine again."

Remy wasn't particularly sure that sounded plausible, he turned to look at her strangely.

"Grief...it affects many differently. But then, yI'm sure you understand it yourself," she asked, she headed back to her chair.

"I'll tell y' what I tol' Professor Xavier," Remy watched her, "I ain' grievin'."

"Please, sit down," Dr. Forbes said gently.

Remy sat down slowly on the leather couch opposite Dr. Forbe's matching arm chair. He glanced down to the books of art on her coffee table, blocks of colour arranged in shapes, he wasn't sure how this was classed as art, but he knew it always sold for quite a pretty penny. He'd stolen a few like it when he was fifteen and _learning _his trade.

"Tell me, Mr. LeBeau...what is your _earliest _memory."

"My earliest memory..." he repeated, frowning a little.

"Of your childhood."

"Why we got t' go there?" he asked, his neck tensing.

"For this to work, I need to have an understanding of who you are, how you grew up..." she explained softly. "Our first session-"

"Our _first _session?" he blinked, "I was on the understandin' this was a _one off_..."

"No..." she shook her head, "Professor Xavier booked you for treatment _indefinitely..._"

"Indefinitely?" he asked, his neck growing even more tense, "for _good?"_

_ "No..._" she shook her head again, "Just until such times as we feel therapy might be helping your frame of mind."

"My frame of mind is fine," he replied.

"If it were, would you have agreed to come?"

"I was rail-roaded int' comin' here. Ultimatum."

_I'm here 'cause I'm afraid I'm goin' crazy, _he thought reluctantly, he rubbed the back of his neck as he stared down at the books, he reached down and flicked the nearest book open, hoping he wasn't about to be _scolded _for touching what he hadn't been given permission to touch. He took a moment, trying to think of what his earliest memory might be, he wasn't sure he really knew which the earliest one was.

"Ultimatum or not...it does help to talk. Anything you tell me is confidential."

"So anythin' _I _say doesn' go back t' Professor Xavier?"

"Not at all."

Remy stared down a brightly coloured print of an abstract painting; shapes and colours overlapping and cutting into each other, none of it made sense, it was ugly and jagged, reminding him oddly of Jean-Luc's face. "I don' wan' talk about my childhood...or my first memories...or my _life."_

_ "_That's going to make it very difficult," Dr. Forbes admitted.

"I suppose."

"If you don't wish to talk about your grief...or your life...then...what is it you would _like _to talk about?" Dr. Forbes asked carefully.

Remy raised his eyes, "I'm here t' ask _anythin', _right? T' talk about _anythin' _that I wan' talk about?"

"Of course?"

"What if it's not in y' usual...y' know...field of...expertise?"

"Now I'm intrigued..." she confessed.

He glanced over to the fish tank, the reflection of Jean-Luc was there, he could see it, slightly murky and distorted. His palms grew sweaty and his skin felt cold at the sight of him. "What woul' y' say if a patient came t' y' and said they think they're bein' _haunted."_

_ "_Haunted by what, exactly, Mr. LeBeau? By _guilt_? By _grief?"_

"By a _ghost," _he said emphatically.

She crossed one leg over the other, leaning into the side of her chair, her eyes were locked to his. He could see he had her full attention. "A ghost..." she repeated, looking rather thoughtful. She was waiting for him to explain more.

"When I look in a mirror, out a window...in a dark corner...in a crowded street out of the corner of my eye...standin' blatant three feet in front of me...when I wake up in the middle of the night...from nightmares 'bout him...there he is...right in front of my face..." he looked at the doctor, waiting for some kind of judgement. He could see her focus, her thought processes. "Y' think I'm crazy."

"How much sleep are you getting?"

"Hardly any," he commented, "I wake up early wit' bad dreams about him..."

"Him?"

"The ghost," Remy replied, deciding to be vague as he could. He did _not _want to have to explain about Jean-Luc.

"I see..."

"So...y' think I'm crazy?"

"No..."

"Y' think I got somethin' _wrong _with my head...that I got some kind of...mental disorder or something."

"I can't make a diagnosis like that in a twenty-minute span, Mr. LeBeau," she smiled a little, "my initial thoughts didn't go in that direction. Let me ask you...how do you feel _emotionally_?"

"Fine," he said.

"You aren't _sad _at all?"she asked. "Professor Xavier gave me a little background...he said your father had died recently."

"Adoptive father, and we weren't close," Remy said, and he somehow despite his anxiety made himself sound _so _convincingly casual about it that he was _certain _she believed him. "And I'm not sad..."

"If you were, would you _tell _me?"

"What I got t' be sad about?" he shrugged, "I'm strong, I'm healthy, I'm married t' a real nice girl...I got a real nice home...and f' the most part, the people I'm with seem t' be okay...and mos' of them actually seem t' care far as I can tell..." he shrugged. "Why shoul' I be sad?"

"Sadness can't always be defined by _reasons _for being sad."

"I'm not depressed, if that's what y' askin'," he stated.

"How do you define depression, Mr. LeBeau? What is _depression _in your eyes?"

Remy stared at the floor for a moment, "t' me...depression is..." he stopped himself. "It's..."

"Yes?"

He grunted, "It...always seemed like..." he frowned, lost for a moment, "what was wrong wit' Jean-Luc."

"Jean-Luc?"

"My father...my...adoptive...father," he said, correcting himself awkwardly, "he was a different man when he firs' took me in. Not that he was ever a _nice _man, nor exceptionally charmin'. He was...different after his wife die..."

"He loved her deeply..." supposed Dr. Forbes.

"He had a funny way of showin' it sometimes. There were some beatin's...some...really nasty ones..." he frowned, "she were a frail thing...I barely remember much 'bout her except her long brown hair and the way she use t' pull it over her cheek t' hide the bruises..."

"How did she die?"

"Accident..." Remy swallowed, looking away. Suddenly Remy couldn't exactly remember how he'd started talking about this. How had this happened?

"That's rather vague..."

"I don' wan' talk about this," he shook his head.

"Anything you say here is confidential, Mr. LeBeau, and it could be helpful."

"I don' see how."

"How did your mother die...?"

Remy hurt every time some one ever referred to Vivienne LeBeau as his _mother. _And it was always the same...he might fight with them on whether he could have ever classed Jean-Luc as a father but he would _never _argue the point when it came to Vivienne.

"I...was a kid...Jean-Luc, he startin' t' teach me the family business...the way he had Henri...his real son. Vivienne...she thought it was unfair...yellin' at him..." he explained, deciding to avoid talking about the guild for fear of what the woman might learn . "She didn' want me bein' in on that, said I was too young...said she was gon' _draw _the line at _me _bein' taught 'cause I had no one else t' draw the line for me..." his hands trembled.

"What happened?"

"They started arguin'...vicious things was said...they got int' it...I tried t' stop them..." he swallowed.

"How did she die?"

"We was all at the top of the stairs in the house...Jean-Luc grab her by the neck...he shakin' her...I can remember the soun' of her chokin'..." he swallowed hard, "fuck..." he shook his head, "I said I wasn' gon' talk about this..." he wrung his hands anxiously.

"You're doing fine...please...tell me..."

"I..." Remy thought back to that day. Sometimes it replayed over and over in his head like a video on perpetual repeat. "I tried t' stop him, I got 'tween them...I pushed him...she was hangin' so close t' the stairs and she tipped...it...it's stupid when I say it but...it felt like it was slow motion...and I grabbed t' try and pull her back but she was so much heavier...I was small...small f' my age...we both went t' gether..."

"And she died?"

"She caught me mid fall...and she twisted me t' her so that she took the brunt of it and I didn' even get hurt..." he winced, "I swear I heard her neck snap...like a dry twig...the sound jumps through me every time I think about it, feel it shakin' through my spine, through every bone I got."

"You feel guilty about her death?"

"If they wasn't fighin' about me..." he sighed. "It wouldn't have happened."

"You shouldn't feel guilty for _existing _at that moment, Mr. LeBeau."

"What about f' gettin' tween them? F' pushin him? If I hadn't...he'd have never let her go..."

"There's no way to be sure that the outcome would be different whether you had been involved directly or not," Dr. Forbes suggested. "How was your relationship with him after her death?"

"He hated me," he sighed, "I can't say he ever loved me, not even before...not when he pick me up from the street. He saw potential in me, but never saw me like his own. But he was bitter t' wards me. He still taught me the family business, even if it was Vivienne's dyin' wish that he not...but every moment spent wit' me I coul' tell he grudged it...he'd show up drunk t' trainin'...make me do things a hundred times, makin' me feel inadequate even if I got it right..." he sighed.

"Mr. LeBeau," Dr. Forbes tilted her head curiously, "is this ghost you've been seeing _your father?"_

Remy raised his eyes worriedly to her, for a moment wondering if _she _were telepathic. "What if it were?"

"Then perhaps it _is _your guilt that you are being haunted by...not a _real _ghost."

Remy wasn't sure he believed that, it felt too real...and what about the physical feats? Surely that wasn't just a manifestation of guilt...

"I think there is much more to the story, Mr. LeBeau, much more beneath the surface that we have not even so much as scratched here. I think you and I should see each other on a weekly basis."

_How am I supposed t' explain that t' Rogue? _He wondered. He supposed he could always just tell her the truth, that he was attending therapy. _No...she'd be too enthusiastic about it...and she'd _ask _about the things we talked about. _

_ "_I...I don' know if I'm gon' be able t' do that," Remy sighed. "My life is complicated...I got school and other things...findin' a set time ain' gon' work f' me."

"Please consider making time, Mr. LeBeau," Dr. Forbes requested, "there is a lot therapy could do for you if you would only give it a chance. One session is not going to help."

"I'll think about it," Remy sighed, "But I ain' makin' any promises."

* * *

><p>Rogue gazed up at the door of the rec room as Remy waltzed in some time after three pm. She'd looked for him earlier – some of the others had wanted to play basket ball and they'd been trying to get a small team together, but she hadn't been able to find him anywhere in the building. For that matter, Logan hadn't been anywhere to be found either.<p>

"Where you been?" she asked, she pushed herself up from where she'd been lying across the couch with her book, "we were tryin' to get together a basketball team earlier and we couldn't find you..."

Remy stood at the doorway, he was leaning there looking slightly distracted, "Had t' go t' the hospital f' a scan."

"A scan?" Rogue binked, "Are you-?" she felt startled, what if something was wrong with him from the accident?

"It was jus' t' check that I didn' have any cracks in my skull or anythin' from the car crash," Remy replied. He looked around the room, he seemed to be somewhat surprised there was no one else there. "My head is fine far as they coul' tell," he admitted, "and I'm sure y' be pleasantly surprised t' know they actually found a brain in my head, so it's all good. So...where is everyone?"

"Still outside playin' basketball," she put her book aside, "_Tabitha _was lookin' for you, by the way."

"Oh?"

"Ah guess for the game. Maybe she wanted you to pass your balls between her legs or somethin', Ah don't know," she muttered.

Remy raised an eyebrow at her, "maybe if she knew I was slam dunkin' someone else..." he supposed.

"Shut up," Rogue muttered, looking away, "why didn't you tell me you had an appointment to go to the hospital?"

"I didn' even know. Professor said I had t' have it 'fore he would clear me t' go back int' trainin'."

"Oh..."

"'Sides...if I'd told y', y' would have worried..."

Rogue studied him for a moment, she wondered if he were telling the truth about the hospital. The Professor had called for him that morning, she wondered if that was what it had been about, and not _high school _as he'd initially had her believe.

For a few moments they sat in silence, their hands barely an inch apart on the seat between them on the couch. Remy pushed his hand slightly closer to hers, but she slid hers out of the way of his, she was afraid someone may walk in and catch them holding hands.

Remy seemed slightly distracted for a moment, and vaguely frustrated. He sighed, a little restless, he shifted in his seat.

"How 'bout we go out t' night?" he asked casually.

"Tonight?" Rogue turned to look at him.

"I ain' really been out anywhere further than a store or two since we got back...I coul' use a night out..."

"No..." Rogue shook her head, she wanted to elaborate that it was probably too soon for that but before she even had the chance to speak there was an interruption.

"I'll go out with you..."

Rogue and Remy both turned to the door, seeing Tabitha waltzing in, her hair in pigtails, a slight skip in her step. Remy faltered a little, his expression sightly lost. He tried to speak but couldn't even seem to find a response to it.

"We could go to see that new comedy with Seth Rogen," she grinned, "And then maybe get pizza or somethin'."

Rogue watched Remy, curious to see how he was going to get a way out of this one. _You _dare _go out with her, Remy LeBeau, _she thought darkly at him, waiting for his response.

"Thing is," Remy cleared his throat, "I can't drive 'cause of the car accident. And well..._you _got y' license suspended...so...that's not really gon' work, is it?" he smirked.

"We could get a cab."

"Yeah, 'cause he just has an _endless _stream of money...maybe you'd like him to hire a limo for you," Rogue commented coldly.

Tabitha ignored the comment, "come on, you said it yourself, you need a night out."

"Yeah...I did say that," Remy supposed, he looked at Rogue pointedly.

"Should a married man _really _be out on the town with another girl?" Rogue asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

"It's not like his wife is _here,_ or anything," Tabitha shrugged, "besides...a little fun be good for him. Anyway, you're supposed to be his _friend, _and you won't even make _time _for him..."

"Ah make time for him," Rogue muttered, she looked to Remy, wondering if he was even going to fight in her corner. "Ah make time for you, don't Ah?"

"Well..." he feigned a sigh, she felt like punching him right then.

"Ah made _time _for you earlier," Rogue said pointedly.

"Not much," he commented. "It'd be nice if y' made jus' a little more effort f' me...since y' are suppose t' be my friend and all."

Rogue tried not to be too annoyed by this comment.

"I'll always make time for you," Tabitha smiled at Remy.

_She's winnin', _Rogue thought frustratedly. "Fine...then...lets go out tonight..."

"Awesome," Remy grinned, "it'll be fun."

"We'll all go," Tabitha said brightly.

Rogue felt her heart sinking a little, she wanted to blurt out that the girl was _not _invited but it was too late. She felt Remy look at her, could sense him wondering if she was going to say it was a _date, _she could almost sense his frustration that she wouldn't volunteer the information.

"Let me go check the times of that movie online," Tabitha said; she headed off quite happily, a skip in her step.

When the girl had gone, Rogue threw Remy a dangerous look.

"What?"

"_What?" _she repeated. "You would have _totally _gone with her_-"_

"What was I supposed t' say?" he laughed, "she heard me say I wanted t' go out...y' turn me down."

"But _she'd _see it as a _date _if you went to a movie with her alone, Remy!_" _Rogue stood up, her hands were shaking a little with anxiety at the thought of Tabitha managing to somehow effortlessly steal her _husband _right from under her.

"I told you. If she knew there was somethin' goin' on wit' me and you, she'd give up."

"Yeah? She doesn't seem too _bothered _about you bein' married though," Rogue folded her arms stubbornly.

"And whose fault is that?" he asked. "Y' could have jus' told her straight, but y' had t' complicate stuff...this y' own doin', not mine."

"Tell her straight you _don't _have any interest in her," Rogue suggested.

"I ain' gon' hurt her feelin's," Remy replied. For a moment, he seemed slightly uneasy about the idea of doing so.

"You usually don't _care _about other people's feelin's," Rogue pointed out.

"This is different," Remy stood slowly.

"Why?"

"It just _is."_

"You better do somethin'. Before she makes a move on you...and she _will._"

"Y' sound so sure."

"Everyone knows about Tabitha, Remy. She always gets the guy she wants eventually...every guy she's ever liked...she's had..." Rogue stood up, "her _cell number _is on the stalls in the boys bathroom at school for a _reason. _Kurt saw it there, plain as day! It said to call her for a _good time..." _

Remy frowned at her.

"And...there's all sorts of limmericks and jokes about her, you know...about the dirty things she'll do and-"

He swiftly interrupted, he looked suddenly quite angry, "Enough!"

She blinked at him.

"Y' know...y' don' know _what _the fuck y' talkin' about..." he paced a little, his breathing changed, Rogue saw it become slightly unsteady.

"Don't Ah? Ah know her better than you do..."

"Maybe y' do!" he snapped, "But it don' give y' the right t' go _spewin' _shit about her viciously like _that. _She's supposed t' be y' _friend!" _he paced more, his body language was all over the place. It was unlike him to lose his cool like that.

Rogue stood quietly staring at him, surprised by his sudden defense of the girl. She took a moment to compose herself. "Why...why are you defending her?"

"Why?!" he demanded, he gave an absurd laugh, "why? Y'...y' got...y' got no idea what..." he shook his head and he lowered his voice, his tone was very careful, "Y' got _no _idea what it's like..."

"Like _what's _like?" Rogue asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Bein' the brunt of jokes, havin' a reputation that _precedes _y'..." he snorted. "Y' standin' there condemnin' someone f' stuff y' ain' even _sure _they did."

"Ah'm sure," Rogue replied.

"Why? 'Causey' heard someone say so? I could take a permanent marker, first day of school and write y' number on the inside of a toilet stall, Rogue, I coul' write _all sorts _of the things _y' _ain' guilty of. I coul' go in there and write that I fucked Jean up the ass...that I let Ororo eat peanut butter off my fuckin' _ballsack, _it wouldn't make it _true!"_ he spat.

Rogue hugged herself insecurely, she wasn't sure why he was suddenly yelling.

"I'm sick of y' accusations, and y' pickin' and-"

"Yeah?" she asked suddenly, "well now you know how it _feels!"_

_ "_How it feels?" he mouthed.

"When you accuse me of things I didn't do...about-"

"The movie is at six forty five," came the bright voice of Tabitha as she waltzed in, she stopped, sensing that she'd interrupted an argument, "Uhm...am...I...interrupting something?"

Rogue immediately clamped her mouth shut, her body was shaking a little with anger, she could see Remy's was too. He let his hands rest against the couch and he leaned over it a little, he somehow miraculously managed to make it seem so casual, his voice changed to perfectly calm when he spoke.

"Just stupid shit..." he replied.

"What did he accuse you of?" Tabitha asked, a faint nervous smile playing about her lips, she was standing holding her cellphone.

"He..." Rogue faltered, she couldn't think straight right then.

"Bitch took my black credit card," Remy retorted, "thought it would be funny."

Rogue lowered her eyes to the floor, at least he had the sense to lie, she thought. She didn't like being referred to as _bitch_ though, not even for the lie. "Ah don't care about your damn money," she muttered about to walk away, "have fun at the fucking movie," she retorted to him. _Ah hope you both choke on your fuckin' popcorn._

Remy swiftly moved from behind the couch and he caught her by the arm, "But y' comin' wit' us."

Rogue noted how Tabitha suddenly looked so vaguely disappointed.

"Ah am?" Rogue turned to look at him angrily.

"It's like y' said, I'm married," Remy said, "goin' t' a movie wit' a girl on my own, that wouldn' be wise. What if my _wife _knew?" he pointed out, she felt him glare intensely into her eyes, "wouldn' be a smart move."

"Ah guess not," Rogue looked away, feeling the sting of the argument still upon her.

"So we'll all go...y' can even invite the others," he said, he gave a charming smile. "I'll pay f' everyone...popcorn, soda, you name it. I'll even pay f' dinner f' everyone too."

Out of the corner of her eye, Rogue saw Tabitha's expression shift, she seemed a little frustrated. Nonetheless, Tabitha announced, "that'd be awesome."

"Let me jus' go see if anyone else wan' t' go," Remy patted Rogue's shoulder, "I'll meet y' at six at the van...you can drive..."

Rogue took a deep breath and tried to sigh out her anger carefully, she watched as Remy wandered off, leaving her in the room alone with Tabitha.

"That's really nice of him to offer to pay for everyone _and _to buy us all dinner," Tabitha admitted, she slumped down onto the couch and picked up one of the fashion magazines Amara had a habit of leaving on the coffee table.

"Yeah."

"He's such a nice guy," Tabitha admitted.

"Yeah, he is," Rogue managed through gritted teeth.

Tabitha flicked through the magazine casually, "ooh, those boots are so hot," she commented on the page, Rogue spied a pair of knee high leather boots.

"Yeah," Rogue agreed, holding her tongue from snapping. _Maybe if you're lucky enough he'll _buy _them for you._

* * *

><p><strong>End of Part Sixteen<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Who else loves it when Rogue is bitchy? LOL. I don't think I've ever written her be bitchy in petty ways before, it's kind of fun in a way (don't know if it's really out of character or not, oh well, lol).<strong>

**Thanks to all for their amazing reviews on the last chapter. I agree that Rogue lost an opportunity to be honest with him during the "pillow talk" segment of the last chapter, the pair of them seem to both have terrible timing when it comes to the things they want to talk about. I was surprised that Rogue's using sex to distract him from Tabitha was actually cheered on rather than frowned upon, lol. I thought I was going to be criticised majorly for her pulling that stunt. I was also surprised that there've been no complaints that their "sexual" relationship isn't all imaginative and fifty shades of grey fantastic with deep lingering romance and earth shattering orgasms, lol. In the comics they might have had an "immediate" connection that way, but I just don't see it happening that way with someone with Rogue's powers. Things can't always be perfect (like the closet, lmao). Sometimes these relationships are awkward even for those deeply in love, and it felt more realistic to not have it tied up so neatly that suddenly they were going to be incredible together sexually (especially as they're skipping certain steps in the process). Hopefully it won't get me too hated anyway!**

**Anyway, I'm off to do a wee bit more writing before I go to sleep, I hope you all have a fantastic weekend, thanks for all the reviews and the reading of my stories you guys do, you're awesome. **


	17. Part Seventeen

**BENEATH THE SURFACE**

**Part Seventeen**

* * *

><p>The movie theatre was packed, as it usually was on a Friday night. Remy had found out who was all attending their little group outing and had booked the tickets online using his phone; it had made things far easier in the end. He'd opted for VIP seats, the ones with the highest view and the wider seats, them being leather, with better cupholders and more leg room. This only helped to gain him points in everyone's eyes...everyone except <em>Rogue's <em>that was.

He tried to pretend he was rather upbeat, despite Rogue's argument with him had left his blood boiling more than he'd care to admit. Normally he didn't care what people said about others, but something had struck a nerve when Rogue had talked about Tabitha's bad reputation. Perhaps it had almost been as if Rogue had been picking on _his _reputation, his _habit _of being with others for one night stands.

He wasn't sure much of Rogue's claims about Tabitha were substantiated of course; rumours were just that...rumours. He'd heard such things himself of course, he'd seen Tabitha once or twice heading off on dates with young men while spying, but it didn't necessarily mean things had happened, and it didn't mean it was all right for Rogue to use it right there in an argument like it was a valid _reason _for him to stay away from Tabitha altogether.

_She don' trust me and she don' trust Tabitha, _Remy thought as he walked up the long staircase towards their VIP seats. He supposed the best he could do in the situation was try to appease Rogue as best he could and hope she'd simmer down and stop mistrusting him.

As they went about choosing their seats, he watched as Rogue went and sat _right _beside Tabitha, and he couldn't help but think it was a deliberate ploy to prevent her from getting close to Remy. Feeling it might be a trap otherwise, he sat at Rogue's left, feeling it the safest option.

He felt Tabitha glance over at him, almost regretfully. Ever since they had made plans he'd been sensing Tabitha wanted to talk to him about something, but with Rogue's suspicions, he didn't want to entertain the notion. The thought made him guilty, that Tabitha might need to speak to him about her father, or may be stressed over something bothering her. He kept trying to remind himself that it wasn't his problem, but his sympathy...knowing what the girl had been through...it made it _hard _to ignore her need for a friend. He almost wished for a therapy session right then, as much as he _hated _the idea of psychiatry, just so he could ask what the best course of action here would be.

When the movie started, he tried to focus on the story instead of his worries. His senses were fuelled with anger, frustration, and the distraction that Rogue seemed to be wearing the perfume she'd worn on their wedding day. He wondered if that was deliberate or not. The scent was intoxicating and reminded him of a strangely happy day; he let his elbow sit on the arm rest and pressed his cheek against it, leaning nearer to Rogue's side just so he could breathe in the smell of it. Had Tabitha and all the others been there to hear, he may have whispered to her how she smelled so nice, how it made him think of her in the dress, how he wished they were alone right at that moment.

He gazed over to see Tabitha standing up, giving a sigh. She began to move right towards the empty seat at his left, he watched her.

Rogue leaned forward "what the-?" she asked, a slight frown on her brow.

"I can't see 'cause of _Marge Simpson_ up front," Tabitha muttered, gesturing to the row in front where a young woman with ginger hair had a rather impressive permed hairstyle that was rather high and fluffy. Tabitha dropped into the seat at Remy's left with her huge bucket of popcorn and her large soda.

"_Subtle," _Rogue muttered in a low whisper.

"Ssh," Remy whispered.

"Popcorn?" Tabitha asked, holding the tub out towards Remy.

Remy shook his head and as casually as he could, moved his hand from the left armrest and lay his arm across his stomach; he didn't want to even give Rogue the thought he might let Tabitha touch him.

It was hard to focus on the movie with the thought of being caught between the two women, Tabitha he could feel glancing towards him every so often, and Rogue looking at them both suspiciously. He lay his right arm across the armrest and tried to use his pinky to gently graze Rogue's gloved hand but she pulled away rather swiftly. She wasn't in the mood. How was he _supposed _to pretend to build a relationship with her in front of the others if she kept pulling away?

The movie theatre fell into blackness as a rather dark scene was taking place on the screen, and while no one would be able to see he moved his hand to Rogue's thigh and squeezed gently, wondering if it would be enough just to convey he was there with _her, _regardless of whom else had come along for the outing.

Rogue pushed his hand away swiftly as the theatre brightened up again, he felt the rejection sting just a little but tried to understand it. It was a bold move, he supposed, especially in front of others...and a bold move in front of Tabitha who was supposed to think he was _married _to someone who was definitely _not _Rogue.

At the end of the movie, as they were clearing away their empty popcorn buckets and drink cups, Remy glanced towards Rogue, "are y' wearin' _perfume, _Rogue?" he asked, trying to be loud.

"Ah, uhm..." Rogue looked at him slightly blankly.

"I am," Tabitha said, "Chanel Mademoiselle..."

"Since when can you afford _Chanel?" _Kitty asked from the row behind as she was pulling on her cardigan.

"I..."

Rogue frowned, "she _can't," _she muttered, "she _took _it from _my _room."

"Since when do _you _wear _Chanel?" _asked Kitty, now seeming rather amused.

"I bought her it," Remy announced, trying to deliberately drop a hint, it was the truth he supposed, Rogue had been railroaded into buying it at the cosmetics counter of an expensive boutique when she'd been buying makeup for their wedding.

"Why are you buying Rogue expensive perfume?" Kurt asked suspiciously.

"He bought it as a _thank you _for all the help Ah gave him on that mission. He has no imagination when it comes to gifts," Rogue replied, she seemed to be restraining herself from giving him a dirty look.

"Perfume seemed a safe option," Remy shrugged, he tried to give his wife a slightly apologetic smile.

Rogue threw a look at Tabith, "And you shouldn't have been in my room_."_

_ "_I only stole a little spray or two from the bottle..." Tabitha shrugged, "You've never really minded before..."

"Yeah, well, there's a difference between a hundred dollar bottle of Chanel and a a _ten _dollar bottle of celebrity endorsed crap," Rogue grumbled.

"Sorry, okay...jeez, I won't touch it again," Tabitha made a face, she passed by them both to get to the end of the aisle, her jacket dangling from her fingers.

Rogue muttered under her breath, "_don't touch anythin' else of mine, either,_" to which Remy heard quite well as he'd hovered back behind Rogue as he was cleaning up the mess that Tabitha had left.

_She ain' referrin' t' perfume and makeup, _Remy realised darkly.

"Will y' stop bein' so damn antagonistic?" Remy muttered to Rogue once the others had moved on and they were standing there alone.

"She's-"

"I don' want t' hear it, jus' be nice t' her, f' gods sake," Remy warned in a whisper.

Rogue snorted in contempt and left him standing there alone in the row and he waited a few moments, trying to recompose himself. He was getting rather tired of this already and he wasn't sure how to handle it. He'd had girls fight over him before, but it had never been like this...it had never really _meant _something and it had never _complicated _things quite like this. Besides, the last time he'd had two girls fighting over him, he'd ended up in bed with them both at the same time. He doubted that was what was going to happen here...not that he particularly wanted that.

He let the others decide on the restaurant they wanted to go to; they picked a Mexican one. Remy had never had much of an opinion about Mexican food, but the others seemed quite pleased with the idea and he was happy to oblige and pay. He made sure again to sit beside Rogue at the large round table; after making sure that Tabitha had picked her seat and was secured between Kurt (whom Remy could tell was _definitely_ smitten with the girl) and Jamie (who Remy suspected _may _be smitten but quite shy about it).

There was a lot of discussion about the movie, about school, about things in general; for the most part he tried to participate but he became distracted when Jean-Luc finally made an appearance. It had been quite some time since he'd reappeared...not since the psychiatrist's office. Remy had almost wondered if speaking to the psychiatrist may have helped rid himself of the ghost, but it seemed that had been merely wishful thinking.

Jean-Luc was gazing at Rogue almost smugly, a cruel expression sizzling behind his yellowing eyes. Remy felt his anxiety levels rising, what was the man thinking? Could ghosts think? Beneath the table, Remy grasped Rogue's thigh hard without meaning to, his eyes focused on his adoptive father.

Rogue turned quickly to him, "Remy?" she asked in a whisper.

He shifted his eyes nervously to her, "I..." he swallowed hard, he came to his senses, he looked around the table and removed his hand from her leg, "does anyone wan' see a magic trick?"

Between the courses, he performed some simple card tricks to entertain the others, to try to keep his mind away from Jean-Luc's watching them all, watching _Rogue._ It wasn't working. Every time he'd glance up, Jean-Luc would be slightly closer. First he was near the kitchen door, then he was near the bar...then near the hostess station...he was barely two tables away now...so damn close. Remy couldn't help but look at the waiter nearby who was bringing a tray of shots of tequilla to another table.

_God I need a drink, _Remy thought nervously. _I can't deal wit' this shit much longer._

Rogue let out a scream suddenly, Remy felt something cold splatter upon his back and he twisted around, he barely caught a glimpse of Jean-Luc disappearing behind the waiter who had been passing with a large jug of ice water which had been spilled all down Rogue's back.

"Oh my gosh!" blurted the waiter, his eyes wide, "I'm...I'm so sorry!"

Rogue stood up gingerly, her hair was dripping wet, pieces of ice falling from her head, her back was soaked, it was all over the chair and the floor. Remy caught sight of Tabitha stifling a giggle and at that moment he felt slightly resentful.

_Jesus, Tabitha, y' ain' doin' y'self any favours by laughin', _he thought in dismay.

Rogue looked shocked, standing there with water dripping down her sleeves, her hair a mess, her makeup starting to run a little. She pulled the shirt away from her back a little and ice cubes came from beneath. Remy was confused how one jug of water could have drenched her so much, she looked as if she'd been _drowned._

"Look!" said Jamie, laughing hysterically, "she's like the witch in the wizard of oz! Her face is staring to melt."

Scott threw a dark and dangerous look at him, "shut up, it's not funny."

"If you wanted to do the ALS ice bucket challenge, you should have just said," teased Amara.

"Yeah, Rogue," Bobby chuckled, "who you gonna nominate?"

"I'm so sorry," the waiter tried again.

Remy wanted to explode at the man, but he knew right then it hadn't been his fault because Jean-Luc had been right there behind him, he'd _pushed _his arm, he'd _made _that water tip over Rogue. Clenching his fists, he tried to get a grasp on his anger. He wanted to blow up at everyone, blow up at the waiter, at the kids for making fun, at Jean-Luc. Getting mad wasn't going to solve anything and he saw the almost fearful look in Rogue's eyes...it would be a _mistake _to let his anger get the best of him right now. "Look...it's...it's fine," he said through gritted teeth, "please...we could do with some towels..."

The waiter rushed off to get some towels, face redder than a cherry tomato.

Rogue swept her hair back from her face, "Ah have to get out of here," she said, "Ah can't sit like this, soaked..."

"But-"

The manager arrived promptly, having seen the incident from across the other side of the restaurant, he'd already grabbed some towels from the kitchen, not that they were capable of absorbing much water. "My apologies..." he said, his tone sincere, "the waiter is new and not very experienced..."

"That's all very good, waiting is a hard job and all," Scott spoke up, "But our friend got soaked..."

Rogue's face was so red, Remy could see the embarrassment building over her expression as she attempted to dry herself with the poorly absorbent towels. He wondered if half of her humiliation was due to Tabitha's amusement.

"I am sincerely sorry. Our waiters always take such care and I must assure you that this is an isolated incident and will not happen again. I do hope it will _not _affect your decision to dine with us again...and of course, your meal is on the house," the Manager offered.

Rogue picked up her jacket from the back of the chair; it too was soaked, "Ah have to go."

"But-"

"Ah'll hail a cab...y' all got the keys to the van...Ah'll see you at home..."

Remy paused, he could feel his own shirt clinging to his shoulder and a little of his own back, "I got soaked too...I think I'm gonna call it a night. Meal is free of charge...y' all don't need me t' hang around t' pay."

"But, Gambit-" Tabitha tried, looking quite disappointed.

"Enjoy your meal," Remy forced a slightly amused smile, he tried not to look around the restaurant to see if Jean-Luc was somewhere smugly watching. He didn't need to _see _it to know the bastard was there.

Remy and Rogue left the restaurant together and moved a little along the street to find a cab to hail. As they stood there, ironically it started pouring down outside.

"Why is it every time Ah go out with you, Ah get _soaked_?" Rogue asked with a sigh, she ran the backs of her index fingers beneath her eyes to try and clean away her smudged and running makeup.

Remy tried to be funny, to hide how really upset and jarred he was by Jean-Luc's latest appearance, "If y' get wet every time we're t' gether, I'd say it ain' much of a hardship."

"That's not funny," Rogue muttered irritably, "Ah keep gettin' drinks spilled on me..."

"Jus' weird luck I guess..." he remarked uneasily.

"Ah...thought you were gonna go nuts," Rogue admitted, "Like you did in St. Tropez with that British guy..."

Remy winced at the thought of that man...he'd looked so much like Jean-Luc. He didn't _need _reminding of that. He suddenly found himself wondering if the ghost had actually had any involvement in that incident. It was jarring enough the man had looked like his adoptive father, but what if Jean-Luc had _pushed _him to make her spill that coffee over herself. "The waiter was new, he wasn't experienced...and besides...he apologised..."

Rogue looked up and down the rainy streets, "Why is it when it rains it's always impossible to find a cab?"

"'Cause they're all taken 'cause everyone grabs one when it rains," he supposed, "c'mon, we'll walk a little..."

"In the rain?" she asked.

"In the rain," he replied, "c' mere..." he reached out to put his arm around her.

"What if someone sees?" she asked, flinching out of his touch a little.

"Then...I'm jus' tryin' t' keep y' warm...'cause y' got cold and soaked..." he shrugged. "Gentlemanly thing t' do."

Rogue stopped in the street and looked up at him, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah...why?"

"'Cause...you seem...Ah don't know...a little...blue."

"Me? Blue?" he scoffed, "y' imaginin' things."

"Why did you grab my leg like that in the restaurant?"

"Y' my wife, d' I need a reason?"

"In _public, _yes," she decided.

Remy adjusted the collar of her wet jacket, "I touched y' leg 'cause I wanted t' touch y'...ain' any more reason than that."

Rogue gazed up into his eyes, and for a moment he felt his romantic spell on her might be working. With the right soft gaze, the right tenderness in his voice, he could cast a spell that would seduce and captivate her. She lowered her eyes to his jacket, she fixed the buttons on it a little, "tell me somethin'?" she asked of him.

"Tell y' what?"

"Somethin' about you...somethin' you've never told anyone..." she said.

"Why?"

"Just 'cause," she responded, her expression a little lost as she did up the top button of his jacket.

"Well...when I was followin' y', first time I look at y'...I wondered if that hair of yours is real..." he commented, "and if it was, did the carpet match the drapes."

Rogue pushed him, a frown building on her face.

"What? Y' asked f' somethin' I never tol' anyone..." he pointed out.

"Not _that_."

He sighed, "then what?"

"Somethin'...personal..." she raised her eyes to his.

There were so many personal things he wished he could tell her. That he saw a ghost, that he thought he was losing his mind, that he was having trouble sleeping because of things that had been brought up in Louisiana. He looked away for a moment, spying a nearby cafe that was open and near empty of customers. It occurred to him right then he could take her there and talk her through _everything _that was bothering him.

The opportunity was _there, _but he just _couldn't _make it happen. He clammed up right then, looking down at her wondering what she'd think of him should the truth ever emerge. And what about those who may overhear? What if he couldn't keep a hold of himself and broke down in a place this public? No, he couldn't do it there.

"Y' wan' hear somethin' personal? Somethin' I never tell anyone before?" he asked, hoping to distract her from his few moments of silence as he considered what to do.

She nodded a little, her expression slightly anxious.

"I'm so deep in love wit' y' it _hurts..."_

Rogue's cheeks paled a little.

"When we're apart...it's murder...rooms apart feels like _miles, _and...any distance kind o' makes me ache, my bones, my veins...everythin'...and thenbein' close t' y' feels like..." he licked his lips, "like I've been in pain f' months and suddenly I'm full o' drugs...everythin' startin' t' soothe down..." he leaned close, "the more y' pull back from me...more it stings...and then...when y' touch me..." he took her hand and pushed it against his chest, wondering if she'd feel his beating heart through the layers of now damp clothes, "y' like a heroin needle...right t' the vein...I can feel myself pulsin' wit' the addiction..."

Rogue licked her lips too, her eyes seemed a little hazy as she looked up at him, "you...should have written romantic fiction, Remy LeBeau..."

"I'd only write it f' you..." he sighed near her mouth.

Rogue stepped away from him, she gave a slight shudder, something pleasant and slightly girlish that made Remy feel assured and briefly happy. "It's really comin' down now...we need to get out of this rain..."

He let his eyes carry over the street, spying a motel. It'd be quiet there, perhaps there he could talk to her, perhaps _there _they could be really alone so he could tell her those things.

"There's a motel across the street..." he said, immediately wishing he had _not _said it at all. He wanted to talk to her and yet he didn't. He immediately regretted wanting to even try, he wasn't ready, he didn't feel ready, he didn't feel he ever _would _be ready.

Rogue shook her head, "We have to be back home _before _the others..." she pointed out, "And besides...twice in one day is a little...you know...too much..."

_She thinks I want sex, not t' talk, _he realised. He decided to use that to his advantage to have the subject dropped.

"Not f' me..." he teased.

"Look, there's a cab," Rogue whistled loudly, avoiding the joke.

"You guys! Hold up!"

Rogue and Remy turned in unison to see Tabitha running down the street towards them, using her bag to stop her hair from getting wet; she ran poorly in heels that were slightly too high for her. Remy was certain those heels were borrowed from Amara.

"You got to be kiddin' me," Rogue muttered under her breath.

"I...uhm..." Remy said, feeling slightly baffled.

"Is she doin' this _deliberately _or somethin'?" Rogue asked quietly, "Remy, you need to do somethin' about this..."

"What?" he asked in a hiss, "Y' wan' me t' insult her? Tell her never in a month o' Sundays?"

"_Deal _with it," Rogue warned him, opening the door to the cab that pulled up beside them.

"Thank god I caught you guys," said Tabitha, running up; Remy saw at once something was a little mixed about the look on her face.

"Somethin' wrong?" Remy stood holding the back door of the cab open, he frowned a little.

Tabitha briefly eyed the cab, whatever it was she wanted to say, Rogue's being there stopped her from doing so. "I...feel a little sick," she said quietly, "take me home...?"

"Yeah...sure..." Remy nodded.

Tabitha climbed into the back seat, right in the middle beside Rogue who was at the left side of the back seat. Remy spotted the slightly put out look on Rogue's face. He was sure she'd seen it as a deliberate act, suspicious, making _sure _that they could sit together.

_Guess I'll pay for that later, _Remy supposed as he got in and reeled off the address to the driver. As the cab pulled away from the street, Remy turned over his shoulder and saw a man standing shiftily in a doorway out of the rain. He realised at once it was Tabitha's father. Briefly, he glanced towards Tabitha, who looked worried, her hands wringing at the strap of her bag nervously. Rogue missed it entirely, seemed to be in too much of a mood with her worry that Tabitha was trying to _steal _him right from under her to notice the man lurking around.

The journey was spent in silence for a few moments and it was agonising; Remy tried starting a discussion about the movie they had been to but Rogue wasn't interested and gave vague and distant answers. Tabitha responded every now and then, but he could see she was too distracted. Once or twice, she looked over her shoulder out of the rear window to see if they were being followed; as far as Remy could tell they weren't.

Remy sighed inwardly and moved his eyes to the screen between the front and the back of the cab; someone was sitting in the passengers seat. His breath caught in his throat a little; it caught him by surprise and he hated that it had. By now he should have _never _been surprised to see Jean-Luc _anywhere _he went. Jean-Luc, sitting there as if he were _real, _turned around in the seat and stared through the glass at him, a crooked and dark smile baring his yellowed and browning teeth, his skin seemed even more decayed, his colour was grey, his hair looked to be thinning.

"Somethin' wrong?" asked Rogue, leaning forward a little to stare at him over Tabitha.

"Nothin'," he tried to get a hold of himself quickly, "Jus'..." he fought for an excuse, "I think I left my phone on the table..."

"If you did, someone will pick it up," Rogue commented.

He made a point of feeling his pockets for the phone he already knew he had, "no, wait...I got it."

"What you so worried about?" Tabitha asked, "you got somethin' you're afraid of someone seein'?"

"Yeah," he responded, his mind drifted to the photos of Rogue he had, they were slightly telling. "I got lots I don' wan' people seein'."

"Like?"

"Disturbin' things," he joked.

"Disturbing things?" asked Tabitha, slightly intrigued. "Like _porn?"_

"He's talking about his _Lifehouse _albums," Rogue looked away slightly stubbornly.

"There's nothin' wrong wit' Lifehouse," Remy responded, he pretended to be indignant regarding the subject.

"Except they're lame," Rogue commented, folding her arms.

"Says the girl who listen t' _Adele._"

"Ah do not," Rogue frowned.

"Yeah y' do," he snorted, "I got an email t' say so."

"Email?" Tabitha blinked, "what email?"

"Itemized bill – when she download somethin' on her phone, _I _get it," Remy replied casually.

Rogue threw him a dangerous look, he suddenly realised perhaps this was a little telling. He wasn't sure he even cared.

"Wait...You pay for _her _phone bill?" Tabitha asked; he saw the way her mind was working. Why was he paying for someone else's phone bill? What did _that _mean?

"I _did _kind of fuck up her phone, kidnap her and use her f' her powers for a few weeks," Remy explained quickly, "'sides..." he stared outside, trying to avoid looking at Jean-Luc; he was no longer in the passengers seat though, he was standing on the street outside in the rain, still menacing, lankier than he ever had been before. "She save my life."

Remy felt Rogue's eyes upon him, her gaze heavy.

"I owe her my everythin'..." he sighed quietly, watching Jean-Luc disappearing into the distance.

The rest of the ride was uneasy, Remy felt tension building in the back of the cab, and by the time the cab was pulling into the mansion driveway it seemed almost thick enough to be cut by a knife. Rogue was the first to get out, without even uttering a word, and she'd headed inside while he went about paying the driver. Tabitha hovered at the door, looking at him.

"Y' dad was there, weren' he?" Remy asked, putting his wallet back into his pocket, he heard the cab driving off at his back.

Tabitha lowered her head and gave a slight nod, "I didn't want to say, not in front of Rogue..."

"Rogue wouldn't have-"

"She might have," Tabitha shrugged, "she's been a little...different since you guys came back...she's not how I remember her being."

"How you mean?"

"She's...bitter..."

"Not true," Remy shook his head, "she just has a lot on her plate. Wouldn' you be a little iffy if y' were havin' t' _repeat _y' senior year thanks t' constant absence?"

Tabitha sighed a little, "I suppose."

"Anyway...did y' dad _try _t' talk to y'?"

"When I left but...I just dashed by him and ran to catch up to you guys...I don't know where he went...probably crawled under a rock or somethin'...where he belongs," she muttered.

"Y' should have jus' stayed there wit' the others. He wouldn' have dared-"

"I couldn't sit and eat with him there, looking through the glass like that..." Tabitha replied. "How could I?"

Remy ran his hand through his wet hair, "Listen..."

"I always feel safer when I'm with you, you know..." Tabitha admitted, "like...I'm sort of...untouchable..." she reached out to touch his chest, her fingers delicate and pale in the light on the porch.

"Tabitha..." he stepped back, "there's somehin' y' shoul-"

"Are you two gonna stand out there _all _night?" the front door opened and Rogue stood there, Remy saw her fight the expression of displeasure in their being alone together like that; had she seen Tabitha reach to touch him?

"Just a moment," Tabitha replied, frowning a little, "I have to talk to Remy about something..."

"Ah'm sure _Remy _wants to get in and get _changed, _he's soaked through," Rogue responded.

"Just a moment, Jeez," Tabitha replied, grabbing the door handle and _shutting _it, effectively closing the door on Rogue.

Remy stared at the door, "Y' shouldn' have done that..." he admitted, half expecting Rogue to open the door again.

"It's not her business," Tabitha replied.

"It...sort of is," Remy supposed.

"She's trying to look out for you, I get it," Tabitha shrugged, she gave a vague laugh, "but you're a big boy...you can look after yourself. Anyway, what I wanted to say is—"

"Tabitha," Remy took a deep breath, "I think I know what y' wan' say..." he looked away from her, considering his words carefully.

"You do?" Tabitha asked, sounding slightly hopeful.

"Yeah..." he chewed the inside of his cheek, "I ain' blind, I know the signs...everythin' about y' body language, the way y' voice is around me...I know y' like me," he said.

"I do..." she confessed, she reached for him, but he stepped back again.

"What y' like about me is all smoke and mirrors...it's illusion, y' know that, right?" he asked, "I got a natural charm...that's all..."

"I like you for _you,_" Tabitha replied, "you're a nice guy...you're kind...and you get things that no one else I know will _ever _understand..."

"Tab...y' a real nice girl, y' know? Y' beautiful, and y' funny, and fun..."

"But?" she asked, sensing it.

"But I'm _married..."_

_ "_To someone who isn't even _with _you...someone who's _ashamed _to be with you..." she pointed out.

Remy moved to the door and he took a hold of the handle, "I'm not gon' lie and say there isn't problems in my marriage, that there aren't secrets and doubts..." he shrugged, "But...I love my wife..."

"If she loved _you, _she'd be with you."

Remy couldn't help but wonder if Tabitha had a point. He didn't say anything else because trying to argue it right now would just hurt too much, he opened the door and stepped inside, leaving her standing there on the porch with her thoughts. He hated the guilt of doing that, of walking away. He raised his eyes to the stairs where Rogue stood, she was looking down at him.

"What'd she say?"

"Not a whole lot," Remy began up the stairs, his voice dull, "I said everythin' f' the both of us."

"And?"

"I made her understand," Remy kept going up.

Rogue followed, "What did you tell her?"

"I tol' her the truth, Rogue," He paused halfway.

"What?" Rogue asked, stopping, she turned him towards her, "what do you _mean _you told her the truth?!"

Remy gazed down to the front door, the girl was still standing out there, "I tol' her I'm married, and that I'm in _love _wit' my wife. I left it at that."

"What'd she say?" Rogue queried.

He snorted, "Y' wan' know what she said?" he began up the stairs.

"Yes!"

"She said _if she _loved _you, she'd be _with _you."_

Rogue stood there, he stopped at the top of the stairs and gazed down at her standing there in the middle.

"I never cared 'bout breakin' hearts or lettin' girls down 'fore, Marie," he said, "I never had t' care about the _aftermath. _But that girl, she standin' there on the porch after jus' havin' her feelin's stepped all over. Be nice if _someone _coul' help her pick 'em up again."

"You want me to...?" Rogue admonished.

"Yes!" he snapped. "Y' know what, maybe _you _can go clean up some of the mess out there that you helped _make,_" he snapped.

"How did Ah-?"

"How!?" he demanded, "y' didn' have a hand in this? If we'd been honest, she would have _never _let herself feel anythin' f' me. So y' better get y' ass out there and be a fuckin' _friend, _'cause, chere, that girl _needs _one more than y' will _ever _know."

Rogue looked away, her face getting redder as the fury set in.

"The longer this goes on, the harder it gets. Now either y' go out there and y' help her, and be a _friend _instead of a jealous _brat," _he warned, "or I'm gon' go tell _everyone, _and don' think I _won't."_

_ "Fine,"_ she spat, "Ah'll talk to her, but what good is it gonna do?!"

"It better do some, or else," he muttered and he furiously stomped towards his room, already knowing that when he got there Jean-Luc would be waiting.

* * *

><p>Rogue stared at the front door for some moments, trying to work up the nerve to go outside and talk to Tabitha about Remy's rejection. How was she supposed to do that? She'd <em>never <em>had to do that before. She'd never been really _rejected _like that before herself, so how could she even begin to help the girl?

Rogue hated Remy for this, she didn't like the thought of being at blame for _this. _It wasn't her fault was it? Hadn't _he _led Tabitha on? Didn't he have a hand in it? But still, in the interest of keeping her relationship with Remy as quiet as possible for the time being, she decided it would be best to play nice for now. If he wanted her to _console _Tabitha, then that was what she'd have to do.

It wasn't that she _didn't _feel sorry for Tabitha. She supposed in some way she did, it was never easy caring about someone you couldn't have. However, she disliked the idea of having to console the girl who she was certain probably could _still _swoop in and take Remy regardless of what had been said.

Sighing, Rogue pulled the door open and stepped outside, she looked down to the porch steps where Tabitha was sitting, just out of the rain, hugging her knees. Rogue tried to feign as light a tone as possible, "hey, you gonna sit in the rain all night?"

"Maybe," Tabitha replied quietly.

Rogue stood looking down at her, she had to admit, the tone of the girl's voice _did _definitely indicate she was rather upset. "Is...is something wrong?" Rogue tried, trying her best to sound vague.

"I...tried to tell him that I like him, and he...turned me down," Tabitha sighed, she pulled her knees closer to her chest, chin resting against them.

Rogue came to sit beside her, lowering herself slowly down to the step. She was still quite wet thanks to the soaking she'd received at the restaurant as well as the short walk in the rain, but at least the wet clothes had begun to warm to her body temperature finally, "Ah told you he was married."

"I _know _that," Tabitha replied coolly.

"Then what were you _thinking _dropping that bomb on him."

"I didn't drop it on him," Tabitha said, "He...told me he already knew...he cut me off before I even had a chance..."

"But still," Rogue shrugged, "you knew he was married...you should have just...kept schtum."

"How could I? _Why _should I? She's not even _here," _Tabitha despaired, "I mean...how can _that _work..."

"Guys in the army do it all the time," Rogue reminded, "families back home while they're off in Afghanistan or god knows where, see them maybe five times a year, maybe a week at a time..."

"I don't _think _she's in the army, Rogue," Tabitha remarked unhappily.

"No," Rogue drew a breath frustratedly, "But...if you think about it, Remy...sort of is. Ah mean, aren't we kind of...a mutant army? Isn't it the same?"

"No," Tabitha replied, she looked slightly thoughtful and turned to her, "when you were away with Remy...did you meet his wife? Do you _know _her?"

Rogue had to think quickly about how to answer this, there was only one way to answer though, "Ah...know her."

Tabitha tilted her head, "What's she like? Is she as beautiful as he says she is?"

Rogue looked away, finding it surprising he might have told Tabitha that the woman he was married to was beautiful, "Ah wouldn't call her beautiful..." she replied, refusing to lie about it. She didn't _believe _she was and thought Remy's perception of her was a little skewed.

"So she's ugly then?"

Frowning, Rogue clenched her teeth, "Ah wouldn't call her that, either...Ah think...she's not much of anythin'. Not pretty, not ugly...just...normal..."

Tabitha frowned, "why would he be with someone like that?" she asked.

Rogue had often wondered the same thing.

"He's so good looking...he has a great body...and he's rich and talented and funny and...he has everythin' goin' for him. Why would he want someone like that?"

_Why would he? _Rogue supposed. Remy had tried to tell her before but she still found those things so incredibly hard to believe. It still hurt all the same. She'd _feared _the others may think that about why Remy had married her. Why would he marry _beneath _him like that?

"Ah guess it's her personality he likes," Rogue tried to explain without being too awkward or resentful.

"What's she like?"

"She's..." Rogue tried to think of how to explain herself to anyone else without saying _like me_. "She's like us, Ah guess."

"What do you mean?"

"She's young...my age Ah guess, and...she's just...a regular teenage girl tryin' to figure things out..."

"What's she like with him? Did you see them actually _together? _I mean...did you see the relationship or did it seem like it was on the rocks?"

Rogue ran her hand through her wet hair absently, "it was rocky..." she admitted, "But...she cares for him."

"But does she _love _him?" Tabitha asked, desperate for the answer of _no._

"Yeah...she loves him."

"You're _sure?"_

"Ah wasn't so much at first," Rogue confessed awkwardly, "but the more time Ah spent with..." she had to correct herself quickly before she could say _him, "_them...the more it started to...be obvious."

"Are...you..." Tabitha paused, "I mean...do you stay in _touch _with her?"

"Sort of," Rogue supposed.

"So you must know _why _they aren't together right now," Tabitha supposed.

Rogue thought about it, "She's...got a few issues, Ah guess. It's complicated...more complicated than Ah can really explain."

"Do you think it'll last?" Tabitha asked, looking at Rogue with a hopeful expression, hopeful for the _no _answer.

"Ah hope so," Rogue admitted, then tried to explain the response, "Ah mean...for his sake. He'd be devastated."

Tabitha looked away down the driveway, "the more time he spends away from her, the more he'll maybe figure it was a mistake...maybe I still have a chance. He must care about me a _little..._I...I'm _sure _he cares..."

"What makes you think that?" Rogue asked curiously, trying to fight her jealous anger.

"He's told me stuff I guess, private stuff...if he didn't care or trust me...he wouldn't have, right?"

Rogue blinked, "what _private _stuff?"

"Doesn't matter," Tabitha shook her head, "come on, lets get in, it's getting a little cold out here."

Rogue watched the girl get up and go inside, her stomach churning. What _private stuff _had Remy told Tabitha exactly that he had _not _told her? Why did the thought of those discussions make her blood run cold? Why wasn't he talking to _her _instead of Tabitha?

* * *

><p><strong>End of Part Seventeen<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Eeeek, is Remy gonna be in the doghouse now? Yikes! Only time will tell.<strong>

**Thanks to everyone for their super awesome reviews as always. I'm glad a few of you liked the psych session (even though I'm not great at writing those types of scenes). There's definitely going to be a few more (I think I have at least three more up until chapter 30). There's a few interesting camps, some don't agree with Rogue's bitchiness, some do, some are sticking up for Remy's right to defend Tabitha, while others are really finding him being a jerk about it, so fascinating to see different takes on it! lol.**

**As for why I haven't updated a bulk of chapters I've written, even though I am quite far ahead, it takes a good hour or two to edit each chapter (depending on length) as I have to read over it, and re-read it to make sure it makes sense (sometimes it doesn't and I end up having to reword paragraphs, etc). It's very time consuming. I also like to keep a bulk of chapters on hand in case I need to fix continuity errors or rewrite a chapter I'm not happy with (which has happened about a hundred times, especially with "Slight Return", almost every chapter of that story was on it's 6th version by the time it was all uploaded lol). I always need room to fix things, which I can't do if I upload immediately as I write it. At the moment it's probably going to stick to a schedule of about 1-2 chapters uploaded a week which is about all I can manage with everything else going on in life, lol.**

**Anyway, I'm off to watch Breaking Bad, hope you all have a super week and thanks so much for all the reviews, you guys really motivate me :)**

**- Ash**


	18. Part Eighteen

**BENEATH THE SURFACE**

**Part Eighteen**

* * *

><p>Remy LeBeau's first day at Bayville High was humiliating. He couldn't explain why walking up to the doors that Monday morning felt like he was being <em>marched <em>into a prison building. For the next year, he supposed it _would _be a prison, at least until afternoons and weekends. _Already _he felt the weekend couldn't come quickly enough.

Unlike the X-Men, he hadn't been made to attend the very early morning training session; he'd been awake nonetheless though. He'd heard the alarms going off in their rooms as they'd gotten up, heard their rummaging about getting ready. He'd been trying to sleep all night but it had come in broken pieces, usually awakened by bad dreams and horrible anxiety about sleeping in.

God, he'd never had that anxiety about sleeping in the _first _time he'd gone to school.

Other than his anxiety about school, he had Rogue to contend with. She'd been strange towards him all weekend, quiet and reserved. He'd tried to find time to be alone with her on Saturday morning, but she'd been busy with training with Logan, and then a mission had taken up almost all of her Sunday. He'd made a point of deliberately avoiding Tabitha; he didn't spend any time in the rec room in the next two evenings and had chosen to repaint his room again, this time a slightly lighter green colour.

He'd been sensing Tabitha's eagerness to try and get him alone since Saturday morning, had noticed her furtive glances at breakfast and had done his best to pretend to be none-the-wiser. To be sure she'd never find an opportune moment to get him alone during the weekend, he'd chosen to ask Scott and Kurt for their assistance in painting his room, and the two had been only too happy to help much to his pleasant surprise. Normally in small doses, Scott was only vaguely tolerable, but this weekend, Remy couldn't have been more glad of the company, and found it far more agreeable than usual, even surprised how eager Scott was insisting to stay and help when the first coat had dried and the darker paint beneath had still shown through and needed repainting.

It had taken _four _coats of paint, one trip to the hardware store for more paint and several rest breaks – all spent in the company of the two – before the job had been done and the room finally looked _finished. _He'd successfully avoided Tabitha all weekend too, although she'd been _dropping in _to see the progress of the room, seeming slightly awkward and put out that Scott and Kurt never seemed to be absent.

For all the work his room had taken, it still didn't feel any the more homely. Remy supposed that was due to the fact his bed was a single mattress on the floor pushed against the wall. The bed he'd ordered still hadn't arrived; he had to wonder where the heck the manufacturers were.

At Bayville High, Rogue showed him to most of his classes; he was almost relieved to find out they had most of the same classes other than he had a woodworking class while she was apparently attending home economics (which he admittedly wasn't too cut up about not attending) and a completely _different _gym class. His relief of being in the same classes as his wife was rather short-lived; as it turned out, he and Rogue had been assigned desks and they were rather far apart, usually several _rows _apart.

It felt _alien, _being in school again. He felt idiotic, trying to pay attention and being completely in the dark about the subjects. He knew math well enough to function rather brilliantly in the criminal world, he could calculate quickly, work out fractions hastily without a seconds thought but when the math teacher started talking about processes and variations and algorithms, Remy suddenly felt like a four year old sitting in a university lecture for rocket scientists.

Science class was just as bad. Chemistry. Having never attended a damn _chemistry _class in his life and being thrown into it? What kind of cruel joke was that? Had the Professor over-estimated his ability? Had he not tried to negotiate a different class with a slightly easier subject matter? At least Rogue was in his chemistry class, and when the students had been told to pick a lab partner (that would be their lab partner for the year) Remy had chosen Rogue hastily; he wondered if she'd have chosen him as quickly if he hadn't spoken up first. Science class, for the most part was supposed to be a "fun" experiment just to ease the students into the first day of term, but Remy didn't understand the point of the experiment and let Rogue do most of the work and simply (and rather slyly) copied down her findings to report to their teacher.

Gym class was basically _running, _he didn't mind that much because it required very little interaction with _anyone. _All day he'd been dealing with furtive glances from pretty little cheerleaders and shy looks from hipster geeks. Rogue, on the other hand, he could barely get one glance from during any class.

At lunch, he went to find Rogue at the cafeteria, but she was with _everyone, _which made it rather hard to hold a conversation. At the end of the table, he noticed Tabitha sitting looking rather thoughtful, she was quieter than usual, and even teasing and flirtations from Kurt couldn't seem to pull her out of it.

After lunch, he got _lost _on the way to French class, as Rogue had slipped away from lunch early to go to the bathroom. He'd _almost _followed her, but thought it might seem a little too obvious, and he didn't need her complaining about the others finding out about them on the first day of school.

The French class had been his most embarrassing class of the day. It bothered him somewhat because he'd almost looked _forward _to the class merely for the fact he was so _fluent _in French he should have looked rather clever in comparison to the other students who had made him feel rather inferior throughout every other class with their silent laughter and looks of disbelief at his ridiculous answers to various questions every teacher posed.

In French class, the teacher - Madame Fontaine (he thought it sounded more like a _psychic medium _than a teacher) - _was _French, and whenever he'd answer (to what he felt was the _best _of his ability) any of her questions in French, she'd smack her pointer against his table rather loudly and tell him to be clearer, that his French was atrocious, that she couldn't understand him at all. As he'd _never _had trouble in France whenever he'd visited, he could only suspect the teacher had taken an immediate disliking to him (the fact he wouldn't take his sunglasses off in class gave his identity as a mutant away, he realised, and this probably only added to the list of reasons _why _she would dislike him more).

He normally didn't embarrass easily, but he'd felt his face going red, his blood boiling and he'd had to bite his tongue from using a few choice words in French that he was certain would have had him _expelled _on his first day. What had been worse about the class was that Kitty Pryde and Kurt Wagner had also been in that _same _class, and had heard every exchange, he was certain he'd even heard Kitty giggling (he'd have been more humiliated if Kitty hadn't completely made an ass of herself during the next question).

English was his final class of the day, and it was definitely the easiest of the day but that was only because the teacher had decided to give a rather easy assignment of asking the students to write down about the experiences they'd had over the summer. For the most part, he'd sat there unsure what to really write about, glancing over to Rogue every now and then who was two desks away wondering what she might be writing about herself. His page had remained empty for almost half an hour of the period, other than his name and the date at the top of the crisp sheet of lined A4.

_Lets see, _he thought dully as he stared down at the paper, _what'd I do this summer? I was put in an arranged marriage, I eloped wit' someone who was practically a stranger, fell madly in love, watched my adoptive father finish drinkin' himself t' death in time t' put himself in the hospital and die of heart failure, buried him, had my dirty laundry aired in front of my wife by the man I'm sure is in love wit' her. Then we went t' St. Tropez where I got drunk damn near every night, started seein' ghosts, had sex wit' my wife f' the first time and saw _his _face on her, then got dragged back t' the states so I can be stuck in a minor league mutant trainin' scheme and pretend I ain' married and ain' in love..._

He stared down at the paper. No, that wouldn't quite do.

He wrote some nonsense down, mostly about road trips. He made up a story about how he'd went to Las Vegas with a girl called _Marie, _and then how they had went to St. Tropez on an exciting week vacation. He talked about white sands, and sunshine, visiting the water front and being on a yacht...leaving out all the condemning and juicy details of what had _really _happened. He hope to god he'd never have to read it out – Rogue would be mortified even with how vague it all was.

When the class was over, he handed over his essay about his experiences to the teacher, and waited for Rogue out in the hall, sighing inwardly. The whole day had felt like a disaster, and he didn't really like the idea of having to _repeat _it tomorrow.

Rogue stopped in the hall, seeming to be surprised at his hanging to wait for her. "Oh, there you are," she said, almost as if she'd been looking for him. He didn't quite believe she had.

"Yeah, well...I'm not sure which way is out, so...I follow you," he lied. He knew perfectly well which way was out; finding an exit was never a problem. The rooms here however _all _looked the same and were rather difficult to find.

Rogue was shoving a book into her backpack; they'd been handed out at the end of the class, their assignment was to read it, and Remy already couldn't even remember what it was. He had his in the backpack that had been leftover from one of the Xavier's students from some time ago (he'd had to vacuum the dust off of it the night before, much to his chagrin).

"So..." Rogue said, "what'd you think of your first day?"

"I..." he looked around, "it was okay," he lied, not wanting to really complain in front of so many students passing by, all fighting to get to the same exit point. He also didn't want to start complaining when at least Rogue was making the _effort _to converse with him.

"You sure? You looked a little pissed off in French," Rogue confessed, "least from what Ah could see," she added, leading the way.

"That teacher..." he drew his breath.

"Yeah, she's always a bitch," Rogue commented, "Ah didn't have her last year, 'cause she went back to France for a while, but Ah had her the year before...she's a nightmare."

"Y' know...no one really complained about my French in St. Tropez," he muttered under his breath, backpack dangling from his hand.

"Yeah, well, in your defence, you had a ton of _money _on display in St. Tropez," she said, keeping her voice low, "that kind of makes up for it. No one is going to complain about someone's poor French when they're throwing around cash left right and centre, are they?" she pointed out.

Slightly insulted by her insinuation that perhaps he _wasn't _as fluent as he thought, he retorted, "How is it y' taken French so many years now and _still _can't even speak two sentences?" he asked, glancing towards her.

"Ah can't get my head around it," she sighed.

"Y' seemed t' know what y' was doin' in science."

"Well...Ah should," she pointed out, "Ah took the _same class_ last year," she frowned.

"Oh yeah. This year shoul' be easy f' y' then," he supposed.

"You'd _think," _she replied. "God, Ah feel like such a dummy..." she sighed, "a lot of the kids we're in class with now...Ah was a year ahead before the summer started. The girl who was sittin' in front of me in Math...Ah had to ask her how to solve a problem in class...Ah'm _sure _two years ago she's the same girl Ah had to explain how to work a vendin' machine..."

_Least I'm not the only one slightly embarrassed, _he realised. "I'm...not sure this high school thing is really...me..."

"Oh?" she asked as they finally got to the double doors and left the building.

Remy followed to the direction of the parking lot, "it's jus'...y' know, my education wasn' this..._formal._ And...the teachers was up there in classes talkin' about things...I didn' know what t' make of any of it...I mean what the fuck is an algorithm anyway? And in science...Jesus Christ...I felt like...I was in Japan...didn' know what the fuck anyone was doin' or talkin' about."

"You know...Hank would help you with that, that's _what _he was...chemistry teacher."

Remy shook his head, "I don' need t' be takin' up any more of his time. 'Sides...he'd probably say that it's up t' me t' be payin' attention in class so I understand what this shit all means...maybe it's my fault f' not payin' attention."

"It's overwhelmin' at first," Rogue agreed, "you'll catch up..."

Remy felt his hand graze her gloved one, and he gave her a hopeful glance, wondering if she'd meant it to be deliberate. She didn't seem all that aware as they walked towards the parking lot; the van the students borrowed to take to school was _always _parked furthest from any other cars, in fact, it was parked in a rather vacant section of the lot. Any time he'd spied upon the young X-Men, he'd always noticed this.

"Why so far?" Remy asked, glancing across at the van sitting on its own.

"Everyone knows the _mutant mobile _here," Rogue sighed, "you park that anywhere near a student car, it gets dinged or scratched or keyed. We put it here where it can't get dinged or bumped by other cars..." she shrugged.

Remy glanced up, "and there's a security camera aimed right at it. So if anythin' happen t' it, y' can always get access t' see who do it."

"That too," Rogue nodded, she she adjusted her backpack on her shoulder.

"Y' know...it's nice gettin' a moment t' talk," he admitted, "whole weekend has been kind of...hectic, what with y' trainin' then y' goin' off on that thing..." he sighed.

"Yeah, it's been...crazy," she agreed.

"I tried t' get a hol' of y' by text and y' didn' answer."

"Yeah, my phone runs out of battery _fast,_" she admitted. "I charged it last night, it was nearly dead when I looked at it at Lunch."

"Shoul'n' be dyin' that fast," he frowned, "lemme see..."

Rogue took her phone out of her pocket and handed him it.

Remy looked through the settings swiftly, "yeah, y' got the brightness turn up t' a hundred percent, y' got Bluetooth on f' what reason escape me completely as y' got _nothin' _t' connect it t'," he rolled his eyes, "and y' got the location services on...that drain y' real fast."

"Oh..."

"And so does Angry Birds," he commented, finding it rather quickly by double-tapping the home button and finding it in the open apps.

"Oh..." she chewed the inside of her cheek, looking down at the phone.

"Chere..." he took a deep breath, "be honest...y' been avoidin' me?"

"No!" she gazed up at him, "course not."

"Jus'...this text I sent y' on Saturday night has been opened..." he held up the phone, showing that she _had _received the text, "'cause it ain' showin' as an unread message."

"Ah didn''t get it until about eleven pm...Ah didn't want to wake you by textin' back. By mornin' Ah forgot...Ah'm sorry," she smiled feebly.

"I see," he held the phone out to her. He could see there was something uneasy about the way she'd answered, she wasn't being completely truthful and he couldn't imagine why. Had she been too preoccupied with Logan to be bothering with him? He'd begun to slightly worry less about their relationship but he wondered if perhaps he was letting his guard down too much when it came to that.

_Or it's 'cause of that shit with Tabitha on Friday, _he thought dully as he looked down at his wife who was gazing down at her phone.

"You've darkened the screen," she frowned, "Ah can barely see it..."

"It saves a huge percent of y' battery," Remy replied, "turn the brightness down in dim weather and at night, save y' eyes and battery..." he explained.

This shouldn't have been the discussion they were having. He should have been telling her about other things. About his insecurities, about his worries about school, about his thoughts about going to a psychiatrist, about Jean-Luc who was standing right behind her...

"Y' wan' go somewhere? Maybe get a coffee?" he asked.

Rogue paused, "we can't...you have a trainin' session at _four-thirty, _Remy," she reminded, "And Ah have all this damn homework...and so do you," she pointed out.

"Oh yeah," he muttered, frowning a little.

"Come on...the others will be arriving soon," Rogue pulled the keys to the van from her pocket and hit the electronic lock mechanism.

When they got into the van, the rain began to come down again; Remy gazed through the windshield watching large splatters distort the view of the school. For some reason, sitting in the van in the rain reminded him of the night he and Rogue had gone to the hospital to visit Jean-Luc, and he'd refused to leave the car. He'd sat there in the parking lot, adamant about not seeing him, folded arms, stubborn like a child.

_If I'd gone, that'd have been the last night I'd have seen the bastard alive, _Remy caught himself thinking. To try and distract himself swiftly from the horrible thought, he put his hand on Rogue's thigh.

"Remy, no," she admonished, "the others-"

"They ain' here yet," he forced a smirk, feeling nowhere near as flirty as he was trying to be. He pushed her skirt up a little, getting to the top of her thigh a little more.

Rogue pushed his hand away from her thigh, smoothing the skirt down, "Ah don't know how guys can just...think of sex just sudden like that," she confessed.

"Don't you?" he asked, glancing at her curiously.

"Not really..."

"Y' mus' think about it."

"If Ah think about it...somethin' _makes _me think about it. A movie scene...or a book...or a song..." she supposed, eyes watching the wipers on the windscreen slowly swish across to clear the splatters.

Remy touched the on button for the radio, "okay, then..." he said, he played with the buttons for a few moments, trying to find something suitable, "How about...this?" he asked, as Celine Dion's _My Heart will Go On _started belting out of the speakers on the doors.

"All that makes me think of is ice and dead people," Rogue commented, "thanks to _Titanic_."

"Okay..." he tried a different station, Air Supply's _All out of Love _was playing on a classic's station.

"Ew, no," Rogue made a face.

Remy tried another button, "oh, this definitely the one," he laughed as Rhihanna's _S&M _started playing, "Y' gon' tell me that don' do it for you?"

"Yeah, Ah am, actually," Rogue commented, a smirk playing about her lips.

"Surprisin'," he admitted, "usually goth girls int' a little whip and chain and all that stuff."

Rogue turned a little in her seat and stared at him darkly, "and what would _you _know about it?"

"Y' really don' wan' know," he responded.

"No, now Ah'm _curious,_" she frowned, "one time you told me about you dancin' in stripper heels and a feather boa...now Ah find out about whips and chains? What exactly kind of _kinky _shit are you into?" she demanded.

"Nothin', really," he commented, wishing he hadn't brought up the subject at all now, "and like I tol' y' about the stripper heel incident, I was _hammered,_ I don' remember much about it."

"You better _forget _it entirely," she warned, "that _and _whips and chains."

"So...I guess y' not much int' that _Fifty Shades of whatever _thing, then?"

"No," Rogue frowned, "never read it."

"What's the raciest thing y' ever read? And don' say _Twilight, '_cause I might jus' take the rag f' wipin' the condensation off the window and shove in y' mouth."

Rogue shrugged, "Ah don't know. Ah don't read racy shit. If there's anythin' _racy, _it's sort of...incidental. It's not like Ah pick a book with the _intention _of readin' about sex."

"But y' read racy stuff, right?" he asked, trying to ignore Jean-Luc hanging around outside. At least he wasn't in the _van _yet.

"Not really."

"Oh c' mon, y' tellin' me y' vampire books, no one ever has sex."

"Maybe," she shrugged. "Ah guess sometimes they do, but it's usually tastefully written..."

"Can I ask somethin'?" he queried after a brief moment.

"Hmm?"

"How they have sex?"

"Pardon?"

"Vampires are dead, as in _not _alive. No life means no heartbeat, no heartbeat means no _blood _pumpin'...no blood pumpin' means the blood _ain' _rushin' t' the dick, therefore a _hard on _is virtually impossible...so...how the fuck they have sex?"

Rogue frowned, "Ah...didn't really think much about that."

"I bet...y' too busy wonderin' how it _look _when that Edward and Betty-"

"Bella," Rogue corrected.

"-Bella are doin' the nasty."

"Ah never thought about that, Ah didn't even _like _those characters. Ah only read the books 'cause Ah got them for Christmas."

"Right. And _that's _why y' decided t' call y'self _Alice Cullen _f' our weddin'," he smirked at her. "'Cause y' didn' like the characters."

"Shut up," she responded. "Wow everyone is takin' forever to arrive."

Remy glanced at the clock, he didn't much care for how long they were taking, getting time alone with Rogue for the moment was far more important.

Rogue was silent for a moment, she played with the radio for a moment, her expression absent, "has...uhm..." she began, "has _Tabitha _said anything to you since Friday?"

"Yeah," Remy replied.

"What?" she raised her eyes worriedly to him.

"Pass the salt," he answered.

Rogue frowned, "I'm serious."

"She ain' said nothin' t' me. I spent the weekend paintin' my room, remember? I didn' give her much opportunity t' get me alone."

"Remy...she said somethin' really weird when Ah went out to talk to her on Friday night..." Rogue began.

"Oh yeah?" he asked.

"She said-" Rogue began.

There was a noise and the van shook, and the smell of sulphur filled the air. Remy twisted round to look in the back of the van to see Kurt Wagner had teleported himself right into the seat behind Rogue.

"This rain is terrible!" said Kurt, staring out of the windshield. Remy didn't know why he was complaining, the boy hadn't even gotten so much as a droplet on him.

Rogue clammed up immediately on the subject, Remy had expected her to. Instead, she twisted around to talk to Kurt, "where are the others?"

"Some kids are having a _rap battle _in the hall – it's kind of hard to get past 'cause everyone is stopping to watch," Kurt complained. "I slipped into a class room that was empty and took a shortcut – avoided the rain in the process," he grinned. He leaned forward between the seats, "so, Gambit, how was your first day?"

"Oh, it was a piece of cake...if I happened t' be a rocket scientist, which...by the way, I ain'," he shrugged. "I'm not so sure Bayville High is really f' me."

"Why?" Kurt blinked.

"I felt like I was havin' some kind of weird _stroke _in the Math class, it was like an alien language..."

Kurt cleared his throat a little, "I...saw what happened in French class...that was _really _harsh."

Remy frowned, he didn't need reminding of it. "Wasn't quite as horrible as Kitty's little faux pas in French."

"What _did _she say anyway?" Kurt asked. "I thought it sounded like fillet of steak to me..."

"No," Remy frowned, "she tol' the teacher that she wanted to eat her grandson."

Kurt laughed, "so _that's _what she said...no wonder the teacher looked so annoyed."

Remy decided to be daring, "y' know, back in Louisiana, a mistranslation actually got me _laid _once..."

Rogue snapped her head around to look at him. He could feel the thin ice he was treading on, but he supposed Rogue couldn't exactly tell him off about talking that way in front of her if they weren't technically together as far as anyone else knew.

Kurt leaned forward a little more, "it _did?"_ he asked, almost fascinated and slightly shy about it.

"You never told me _that,_" Rogue said pointedly, frowning a little.

"I thought I had?" he asked, "I tol' y' about the teacher in the closet, right?" he asked. "Durin' lunch break?"

"Oh..." she said quietly.

"You...seriously?" Kurt blinked.

"My French weren' that good...but the teacher wouldn' entertain any _English_ in class, so I tried t' ask her if she'd help me practise my French...'cause I was gon' fail the test," Remy explained, "and this was actually when I nearly gave a _damn _about failin' anythin'. So anyway, I tried my _best, _I went through the French dictionaries, rehearsed what I needed t' sayand by damn I nearly had it..."

"What'd you end up sayin'?" Rogue squinted at him, she clearly did _not _like the story, and he was almost slightly amused to be telling it although he was sure he would pay for it later.

"Si vous avez le temps, je voudrais pratiquer plus que mon Francais avev vous," Remy said quickly and expertly, "And...it weren' until she held me back after class that I foun' out I'd asked her if she had the _time, _I'd like t' practise a little_ more _than my _French _wit' her..."

"Oh man," Kurt laughed hysterically.

"So...we...retired t' the janitors closet, which she...happened t' have the key for. I got an A+ in French that year."

"That was last year?" Kurt asked casually, Remy wasn't sure what he'd implied to suggest so.

"It was ninth grade," Remy shrugged, he watched the windscreen wipers swish once to sweep the water from the glass, not that it made much difference, the rain was a little heavier now, still distorting his view.

"_Ninth?!" _Kurt asked, sounding rather startled.

"Yeah, I was about...what...fourteen, fifteen...somethin' like that," Remy supposed.

"That's...really wrong," Kurt admitted.

Remy paused, "it is?" he asked.

"Well...you were...young..." Kurt said tentatively, "didn't she kind of...take advantage?"

Rogue's expression was slightly clouded, he caught it. He knew right then what she was thinking, she was thinking of the _other _times he'd been taken advantage of, more than just by women.

Remy tried to bluntly snub that thought, "if y' had seen my ninth grade teacher, y' wouldn' look at it that way. 'Sides, what fifteen year old gon' pass up that opportunity t' be wit' a thirty year old gorgeous blonde wit' double D's? I'd have been _more _of an idiot t' _not _take that opportunity," Remy pointed out casually.

His wife's eyes seemed to blaze with anger, "You know what?" Rogue asked, "Ah've kind of heard _enough _of the _guy _talk."

"Sorry," Kurt said quietly, sounding quite embarrassed.

"C'mon, Rogue, y' one of _us, _right?" Remy smirked, "what's a few stories 'tween _friends?"_

Rogue frowned, "Oh, so it'd be okay if Ah just started talkin' about _periods, _then?"

"If y' like," Remy shrugged.

"No! Please," Kurt begged from the back of the van.

"Don' bother me, talk about whatever y' like, tell me all y' dirty lil' secrets, the more the better," Remy replied, his eyes moved to the parking lot which was beginning to grow more and more empty, he could spy the others approaching, Kitty Pryde was balancing a large stack of books in her arms as she stood in the heavy rain saying goodbye to a girl she seemed to be friends with. Remy frowned a little, Jean-Luc was there, standing by her, his hand poised beside the books.

_Don' you dare, _Remy thought at him.

"Please don't," Kurt pleaded of Rogue.

"You didn't as him to not tell his story," Rogue pointed out.

"His wasn't...gross."

"In your opinion, maybe," Rogue frowned.

Remy glanced back to check on Jean-Luc's whereabouts, now he had vanished.

Suddenly, without reason, the van's alarm started to go off loudly, startling all three of them and the approaching others. Rogue gasped and quickly accessed the button to switch it off.

"What the heck?" she asked in bewilderment.

Remy tried to still his sudden thundering heart beat, "That do that often?"

"Never," Kurt spoke up from the back, "Must be a fault...I will have a look when we get home."

"No," Rogue grunted, "lets get Hank to do it. The last time you messed with this van, the garage door started opening and closing every time we tried to switch the ignition on," she muttered.

"I was trying to save time by having the garage door open at the same time as the ignition went on," Kurt pouted.

"Sounds like an idea t' me," Remy tried to appear invested in the conversation to hide his suspicion that Jean-Luc had been the one to turn that alarm on.

The others began to pile into the van one by one, Remy glanced over his shoulder, counting heads.

"What happened with the alarm?" asked Ray, sweeping rain water from his face.

"Ah guess the van was stationary too long and the alarm activated or somethin'," Rogue shrugged.

"Where's Tabitha?" asked Kurt curiously, looking outside, "I saw her leaving her last class...she should have been here by now..."

"I thought I saw her about ten minutes ago, maybe she's still watching that rap battle," Bobby said, "Let me text her..."

"She's holdin' us up," Rogue muttered, glancing at her watch anxiously. "Ah've got a lot to do today."

"Tabitha's been a little quiet all day," Kurt admitted, "I'm worried about her...she's not usually so quiet."

"Her tossing and turning kept me up all night," Amara complained. "If it's the same tonight, I'm asking the Professor for a room transfer. I'm exhausted."

Remy scratched his cheek absently, what was keeping Tabitha awake? Nightmares, like him? Or just bothered by the things said on Friday night.

"She says she's on her way, she'll be another few minutes," Bobby spoke up, receiving a text back.

"She say what took so long?"

"Someone glued the lock for her locker, she says she couldn't get her jacket or her books," Bobby replied.

After a few more minutes, Tabitha was seen leaving the front doors of the school; Remy watched, seeing a guy about his age say something to her, she frowned a little and shook her head and walked off as if to dismiss him. The exchange was rather odd, he thought and he wondered curiously what it had been about.

Tabitha got into the van, her t-shirt almost soaked, her expression bored, "sorry I'm late, stupid locker."

Amara eyed Tabitha up, "Where's your jacket?"

Remy realised the girl was right, Tabitha did not have her jacket, nor did she have books with her.

"They couldn't get it unlocked, so I have to wait until tomorrow," Tabitha explained, "anyone have gum or anything?"

"I do," Bobby spoke up, he went to offer her a piece, but she took the entire packet and popped them all into her mouth at once. "Uhm...you're...welcome," the boy frowned.

"So who glued the locker?" Amara asked; the way she said it, Remy could sense that the girl was simply _picking _at Tabitha rather than asking out of concern or curiosity.

"I don't know," Tabitha retorted, "could have been anyone. Could have been _you _for all I know."

"Why would I want to glue your locker shut?" Amara snorted, "You probably have half of my _stuff _in there."

"Shut up," muttered Tabitha coldly; the subject was dropped at that.

Remy tuned in and out of the exchanges in the back of the van. The journey seemed to be taking forever, and Remy was almost amused by the thought he couldn't _wait _to get home. He really hadn't thought much of the institute as _home _up until that moment.

_Anywhere Rogue is shoul' be home, _he realised, he glanced towards her briefly, he was surprised to catch her looking slyly at him. Her cheeks flushed a little, as they always did. One thing he'd come to become instantly attracted to when it came to Rogue was that almost _every _time their eyes met her cheeks would turn that soft pink, the colour of summer roses against her pale skin. Sometimes he wasn't particularly certain of her feelings for him, but there was some small comfort in the fact he was certain that she _did _feel attraction to him, the blushing always let it away.

He remembered reading something once about attraction; how the subtle signals a woman would give off, even _unknowingly _could make a man think of sex. The flush of her cheeks, the pink of her mouth, to somehow make a man unconsciously think of the exact shades of what was between her legs. Even the way a woman's mouth would swell on a good kiss, all reminders.

_Except I never really got t' kiss Rogue...least not good and proper, _he thought a little regretfully. It was a pity, he decided, as she was probably the one girl on earth he could have spent kissing for hours. He wistfully found himself thinking of how lost he imagined he'd be in her kisses, how once his lips touched hers he'd feel like a child in a candy store, unable to stop for the taste of it. Blood pumped through his veins furiously at the thought of it right them, pushing his thoughts away from his nightmares, his worries, his anxiety about Jean-Luc.

As Rogue pulled the van up the drive of the Xavier Estate, he brought himself back to reality, he could still hear all the chatter at his back, but one thing he did _not _hear was Tabitha. Normally she was chatting with the rest, but she was so silent, and that was worrying.

It occurred to him to turn and ask if she was all right but he knew better; put too much interest in, leave Rogue suspicious and Tabitha hopeful. He'd just have to be quiet and wait it out.

Remy turned to Rogue as she parked the van, "y' know," he picked up his backpack from the footwell where he'd had it sitting between his boots, "Since you an' I are in the same classes, Rogue, maybe we shoul' study t' gether," he suggested. He made it sound so very logical, so very sudden as if he'd just realised it.

"Maybe..." Rogue seemed to consider; for one moment he'd almost expected her to be reluctant about the subject entirely. Remy was certain he spied her glancing into the rear view mirror as if to look at Tabitha. Was she thinking at that moment it'd be wiser to try to appease him in the meantime or risk losing him to Tabitha? He almost for a moment caught himself wondering if it'd be _worth _playing that game with her just to make sure she actually _spent _time with him. He was perfectly capable of playing games if he had to.

Rogue took a moment glancing at her watch, he was certain she had a training session of some description with Hank.

"You have a trainin' session in the Danger Room with the New Mutants...and Ah have to learn how to use the new features Hank programmed into the Blackbird," Rogue explained, "But...we'll have a little time after dinner, if you don't mind missin' out on Rec room time...?"

"I don' mind at _all," _Remy said honestly.

"Okay, meet me in the library after dinner," Rogue said finally, "We'll plough through it then."

"The library?" he asked, eyeing her.

"Yeah...best place to study," she grabbed her backpack from the back, the others were starting to climb out.

"Won' that be a little noisy?" he asked pointedly. What he _meant _was that it would be a little too _crowded _for his liking. Why couldn't they go somewhere to be alone to study?

Rogue nearly laughed, "in the _library_?"

Remy stayed in the van, watching as the last person (Tabitha oddly enough) climbed out. As the door shut, he whispered quietly to her, "c' mon...we've been wit' people all day...can't we get some time t' jus' ourselves?" he asked hopefully.

"Remy...what _good _would that do? You think we're sneakin' away to screw around?" she rolled her eyes, "if we make a study date, we actually _have _to study..." she explained, "besides...it's not like we even _have _a lot of homework..." she pointed out. "It's mostly just readin'...Ah'm not sure why we even need to study together at all to be honest..."

"Y' know why," he muttered.

"No..."

"I don' understand a lot of this stuff," he sighed, "it's all fuckin' Greek and Gobbledegook t' me. If I have so much trouble in a fuckin' _French _class when I'm _bilingual _already, how the fuck am I s' pose t' get through chemistry and math?"

"Remy, you're not stupid," Rogue stated quite calmly. "And as for that French class thing. Ah think it's more that you were _too _good, Ah'm sure the teacher was just _pissed _that you actually sounded more authentic than _she _did."

"Rogue, she's fucking French, she's from Lyon," Remy muttered.

"Then maybe, Ah don't know, she thought you were bein' a _smart ass, _'cause you actually knew the answer," Rogue shrugged, she got out of the van, slinging her bag over her shoulder, "My point is..." she said to him as he got out too and followed her, "is that you are _not _stupid..."

"Y' sound so sure," he muttered.

Rogue looked around the garage to make sure they were completely alone, then said, "Any guy who can turn askin' a question to a French teacher into a sexual proposal _and _manage to secure an A+ in the process can't be all _that _stupid," she frowned a little.

He looked at her, knowing the reprimand was coming.

"It's _fine _that you want to do some _guy bonding _with Kurt, Remy, it's _nice, _really," she frowned, "but _don't _go tellin' him or any _other _person here about your _exploits," _she warned.

"I thought it was funny," he shrugged.

"You don't _get _it," she hissed, "it's _not _funny, not in the _least!"_

He rolled his eyes at her and passed by her, "whatever."

"You go tellin' Kurt about the teacher," Rogue stood still, "you...tell Tabitha things..." she drew her breath.

Remy stopped at the door, he'd almost been about to go through it. He stopped, hand poised inches away from the handle, "what?"

"Tabitha...she says you tell her stuff..."

He groaned inwardly, he hadn't expected _that _to come back and bite him. The girl had her own secrets, didn't she understand she was supposed to keep his too? Didn't she at all _identify _with it? "What _stuff?" _he asked, turning around, pretending to be merely curious and confused, trying to convey he had _no _idea what this was about at all. He wasn't certain he could pull this off right now on top of everything else.

"Ah...Ah don't know," Rogue looked at him, "You tell me."

"I ain' tellin' her anythin'," he replied. He supposed in a sense he hadn't really. Hadn't told her much more than a few very _vague _things that could have been up for interpretation.

"She said you told her _private _stuff...she wouldn't even _touch _it when Ah asked," Rogue hugged herself.

"Marie," he said, his voice flat and tired, "Tabitha is in her own little world, she has a crush, that's it and if I tell her I like pastrami, she's gon' think it's private stuff that no one else ever share wit' me," he muttered.

"If you and her are talkin' about things that...that you aren't talkin' about with me..." Rogue began.

"Chere...Tabitha don' know _anythin' _about me that you don't," he said truthfully. "I ain' tol' her anythin'."

"Promise?"

"Promise," Remy lied, it made him sick to the stomach to do so. "So after dinner...library?" he sighed.

"Yeah..."

"I'll be there."

* * *

><p><strong>End of Part Eighteen<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Just a short and somewhat uneventful weekend update but one nonetheless. Not the most exciting of chapters but I know a few were interested to see how Gambit would cope with being a student, lol. I'm sure a few were expecting him to be written (as he usually in such stories) as being good at everything and liked by everyone, etc. This was probably a little blah in comparison, lol. <strong>

**Anyway, I'm off to watch Breaking Bad and then sleep. I hope you all have a wonderful weekend, and thank you so much for all the reviews, you guys are awesome :) **


End file.
